


Matters of the Heart

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Heart Transplant, Regeneration AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 59,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8547241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: After her boyfriend's death Clara Oswald takes comfort in the fact that a part of him still lives on and she seeks out the man who carries her loved one's heart inside him. John Smith would like nothing more than to resume his life like it was before the surgery, but he struggles to adjust and somehow he finds he has a soft spot for the woman who lost the man that saved his life.Will John find it in him to change or is Clara still not ready to let go and accept that just because they share a heart, it doesn't mean that they are the same?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a regeneration-themed AU and this came to mind. I hope you will enjoy it because I'm very much looking forward to writing this :)

When the alarm tore him from his sleep, the last thing John Smith wanted to do was to actually get out of bed. He could hear the rain rattling down on his roof as if a great flood wanted to wash them all away. Damn, he had spent too much time reading the Bible lately. Not that it had done him any good at all. Not that it had made him feel any better.  
The alarm didn’t stop however, instead it kept nagging him, reminding him of his appointment. Would it be very rude not to show up, to cancel on her? Yes, he supposed it would be, so John threw the duvet aside and sat up. It was just a meeting for coffee, just one of his attempts to understand what was going on inside of him that would amount to nothing. It wasn’t as if he had planned anything else for the day except to drift through those hours during which he was awake like he always did ever since the surgery. 

John Smith used to be different once, back when death had still been lurking on his doorstep, ready to strike at any given moment. He had never been a nice man, but at least he had had something in his life – the drive to make his last months, weeks, days count for something, to leave something behind. Now that he knew he was going to live, it seemed that he had run out of reasons to. The drive was gone and for now his publishers were tolerating it, blaming it on the impact of the heart transplant and recovery, but soon he would have to present them with an idea for a new novel and he couldn’t. He hadn’t written a single word in almost four months. He couldn’t write, he didn't know what about and all those novels he had just typed away at the speed of light before the surgery now seemed like the work of someone else entirely. Something about him had changed and four months on he still felt a stranger in his own skin. Before the surgery he had been an arse and his publishers had tolerated it because he had been a genius. Now he was simply an arse with no idea how he was supposed to make a living from now on. 

Then, about two weeks ago, Dr Martha Jones had called him.

* * *

**2 Weeks Ago**

 

“Is this about the results?” John asked and all of a sudden he felt afraid. Was he going to die after all? “Is something wrong?”  
“No, your results are picture book perfect,” Dr Jones reassured him immediately, “There’s something else and it’s a little unusual this way around.”  
“Well?”  
“We've had a call from a young woman. She is your donor’s girlfriend and she has asked to meet you.”  
For a moment John wasn’t quite sure what to say. He didn’t like people very much and, if he was completely honest, he didn’t want to meet some hysterical, grieving woman just cause her boyfriend had donated his heart to him after he had managed to get himself killed. He didn’t know why she would want to meet him, why he should even go through the trouble. Her boyfriend was dead. John was alive. It probably should have been the other way around.  
“Normally it’s the recipient who asks to speak to the donor’s relatives or spouses. I’m sure you can understand why,” his doctor went on.  
“Not really, no,” John replied bluntly.  
Martha Jones paused for a moment. “It’s a tough adjustment. Most people find it easier if they know about the person who gave them a second chance at life. Maybe it would be good for you to talk to her, you know.”  
John didn’t answer.  
“Her name is Clara Oswald. And she asked us for your phone number. We can only give it out with your permission.”

_Clara Oswald._

No, that name didn't ring a bell at all. “Listen, this woman is probably still grieving her boyfriend's death. I'm not sure I'd be the best person for her to talk to. I'm not good at this sort of thing. Why don't you give her the number of a counsellor instead?”  
He heard Dr Jones sigh on the other end of the line and something told him he was going to get a lecture. “Do you remember one of the conversations we had about a year before the surgery?” she asked him.  
John scoffed. “You mean the one where you threatened to take me off the waiting list because of my attitude?”  
“That's the one,” his doctor confirmed, “I don't want to regret the decision I made back then because by the time the next heart will become available a few of those people still on the list will have died. Better people, people who might have deserved a chance to live more than you did.”  
John sighed. He hated being guilted into playing nice. And he really, really didn't want to meet with a stranger over coffee to share sob stories.  
“You want to live, Mr Smith, I know it. Your results are perfect, you show up at every single appointment, you stick to your diet and your exercise, but that isn't everything and the rest is what worries me. I don't think you're coping with the change as well as you think and maybe talking to that woman will help you.”  
“Fine,” John agreed without really wanting to, but Dr Jones didn't leave him much of a choice, “Give her my number, but tell her to prepare for disappointment.”

* * *

He would disappoint her for sure, John knew it when he stepped under the shower and let the water wash away the faint remainders of his nightmares. They had been plaguing him ever since the surgery and John didn't even understand what they were about, just that he woke up every morning, feeling a sense of dread and loss.  
John didn't know what he was supposed to tell Miss Oswald except that she couldn't expect anything from him. His health was fine now, he was alive, thanks to her dead boyfriend. Though he was aware he should probably try to phrase it a little more nicely. Or maybe he wouldn't, at least she would never call and bother him again.

* * *

**1 Week Ago**

 

“Hi,” a shy voice said into the phone, “Am I speaking to John Smith?”  
John swallowed and noticed that his palms suddenly felt a little damp when he had to tighten the grip around his phone. It was probably time for his medication because there was no reason for his heart to be pounding right now. Something was off. Something was definitely not right.  
“Yes,” he replied, clearing his throat. His throat. Why did he feel as if his heart was trying to jump out of his throat?  
“I'm Clara Oswald,” the woman went on to explain while John sat down. He hardly even heard what she said to him, “The hospital gave me your number. They said it was okay to call?”  
“Yes,” he repeated even though he would have loved to tell her to get lost, yet somehow he couldn't. Something was wrong with his heart and he didn't have the strength to argue right now. He needed to get to a hospital immediately.  
Clara hesitated on the other end of the line. “Is it okay if we met for coffee some time? I would like,” she broke off, “I don't know. I want to know how you are, I guess. I want to see that a part of him still lives on.”  
“That's. . . that's fine, I think,” John found himself saying, still not able to shake the feeling that his heart was about to fail him any second.  
“Good,” her voice lightened up, “How does a week from Saturday sound?”  
“Sounds good,” he replied breathlessly, “Listen, I've got to go now. Let's text about the details.”

John didn't wait for her to say anything else then, he simply hung up and rushed to the hospital where they instantly ran all kinds of tests, only to find that he was in perfect health.  
“Are you sure?” John asked the nurse that had delivered the news, “I'm not feeling alright.”  
Rory, the nurse, raised his eyebrows. “Well, you look healthy to me and were certainly healthy enough to shout at the hospital staff half an hour ago.”  
“I'm fine now,” John replied angrily, “I wasn't fine when I came here!”  
“Well,” Rory said and handed him the results, “This says you're fine, so you can go home now. See you on Friday for your usual appointment.”  
John had no other choice but to go back home, feeling fine once more, but still remembering how his heart had threatened to jump out of chest and how scared he had been. His doctor was right. He wanted to live.

* * *

John checked his looks in the mirror after he had stepped out of the shower and considered shaving off the beard that had started to grow on his chin, but then decided not to make an extra effort for Miss Oswald. God forbid he made a decent impression that would make her want to repeat the meeting.  
With a sigh he reached for his jacket and umbrella, determined to get this meeting over with and never look back on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the first comments :) Glad I could get you excited for this fic! Now, let's see how their first meeting goes.

The umbrella didn't do much to protect his feet from the downpour as he walked the last few steps from the Underground to the little café at which he would be meeting Clara and only now, as he was pushing through the crowd, John realized one important thing. He had no idea how he would even recognize her. Once inside he would probably give her a call and look at who picked up the phone. If she wasn't there yet, he would leave. John had better things to do with his time than wait for some woman.  
He exhaled sharply when he stepped inside the café and took a moment to catch his breath while scanning the guests already sitting at the tables. And that was when he spotted her.  
John told himself that he simply recognized her because she was the only young woman here sitting alone in front of a large cup and she looked nervous. But he wasn't sure. Because, if he was being entirely honest, the moment he saw her John simply knew. It could not be anyone else.  
Still he took a moment to look at her just to confirm his suspicion. Pretty face with large eyes and a funny nose framed by brown, shoulder long hair and the dress she wore made her look like an old fashioned school teacher. It could have been worse. At least he would have something nice to look at while she cried about her dead boyfriend.

Slowly John started to approach her and for a moment his damned heart was beginning to act up again, beating just a little faster than it usually did, but now he knew that it was nothing to worry about. It was simply a nuisance.  
“Clara Oswald?” John asked when he came to a halt next to her table.  
The woman instantly looked up and her eyes seemed to grow even bigger than they had been before.  
“Yes,” she eventually replied a little breathlessly and she looked dead scared for some reason.  
John's mouth felt a little dry. He should say something, he knew he should. But what? What would a normal, a nice person say?  
“Uhm,” he spluttered, clearing his throat, “My condolences for. . . well, you know, the. . . the thing.”  
Clara's face showed the tiniest frown and she looked as if she was about to say something, but John simply groaned.  
“I'm terrible at this stuff,” he grumbled, “So, yeah, sorry for your loss. I'm John Smith.”  
He extended his hand to her but still Clara was reluctant to shake it. When she finally did she still hadn't said a word and it was beginning to unsettle him a little, beginning to make him think that maybe he had approached the wrong person after all.  
“I'm sorry, you _are_ Clara Oswald, right?” he asked, “And you asked to see me because of the heart. . . thing?”  
Finally Clara Oswald seemed to wake from her trance and he noticed it when she was shaking his hand more firmly than before when he hadn't even realized they were still touching at all.  
“Yes,” she confirmed with a smile, “Yes, I am. Sorry.”  
Clara Oswald gave a nervous laugh as she drew her hand away and John pulled up the chair at the opposite side of the table to have a seat.  
“Sorry, I'm a little nervous. Been here for an hour and considered just leaving before you got here,” she confessed, not looking him in the eye.  
“That would have been quite rude.”  
“Exactly,” Clara laughed, this time in earnest, “So I didn't.”

John wasn't quite sure what to say to her. So far she hadn't really met his expectations. Clara Oswald wasn't crying. She wasn't whining about her dead boyfriend. She was simply honest.  
“So, how are you?” Clara asked him after a moment and she still looked nervous, which, in return, made him a little nervous, too. “I mean, health-wise, after the surgery. Everything alright?”  
John nodded. “Well, my health is good, so yeah, I guess,” he lied. Clara Oswald didn't need to know about his nightmares or the strange feelings he had been getting since the surgery, the feeling of not being quite himself. More recovery time – that was all he needed. And she certainly didn't need to know that his heart was currently hammering inside his chest. That thing inside of him was starting to drive him crazy. Why was it like that? It was just a heart. But it felt like it didn't belong to him at all.  
“Was it an illness?” she inquired further.  
“What do you care?” John suddenly spat back at her, “I'm a complete stranger. You shouldn't care about what happened to me or how I am doing now.”  
Clara's features froze and he could see clearly that he had hurt her with his words. And yet John fought the urge to apologize to her.  
“My boyfriend died,” she stated plainly and he could see her swallow and try very hard not to be emotional, “I just want to know that it wasn't for nothing. He saved your life. That was the last good thing he did even when there was nothing else the doctors could do for him. And it was my decision.”  
John frowned at her as he saw the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but Clara fought hard to suppress them. “Your decision?” he asked.  
Clara cleared her throat. “He had no other living relatives, so the final decision to switch off the life support was mine.”  
She turned her head and finally met his gaze again, even though she was silently crying now and John could do nothing but stare back at her. Somehow he wanted to say something, to try to comfort her, but he was lost for words.  
“Well,” he exhaled sharply, “In that case I guess I should thank you.”  
“Don't,” Clara replied sharply.  
John raised his eyebrows at her.  
“I don't want your gratitude. I just want to know-” she broke off and tore her gaze away from him.  
“Want to know what?”  
Clara took a deep, slow breath. “That you're using the chance. That you're happy. That my boyfriend's death at least did one good thing for someone out there.”  
“I can't answer that,” he replied honestly. He was alive, yes, but was it a good thing?

The waiter stopped by their table and John ordered a tea. Clara did the same and eventually wiped the tears from her face.  
“But you're healthy now?” she asked him eventually.  
John gave a light shrug. “It's a long process, but yeah, right now everything is perfectly normal and going well.”  
“That's good,” Clara nodded, finally smiling again, “Would you mind telling me about it?”  
“Wouldn't it bore you? I'd feel like a pensioner at bingo night, talking about how my hip replacement went and how many pills I'm on,” John chuckled and eventually he managed to make Clara laugh at well.  
“Well, to be fair, I did expect someone a little younger,” she joked.  
When he heard her laugh John felt the tension leave his body and he leaned back in his chair as their tea came and he observed her for a moment. He didn't like people, but he didn't mind being around Clara as much as he minded with the rest.  
“I'm fine though,” he repeated, this time almost believing it himself, “I will have to take the meds for the rest of my life and I will have to keep a strict diet, but that's okay. I've recently started exercising. Bought a new bicycle because of it.”  
Clara smiled. “Diet and exercise would do us all good, I suppose,” she said and nodded towards something to her right.  
When John looked around he spotted a rather obese man taking a large bite off his burger. With a sigh he turned back towards Clara. “To be fair, I kinda miss a nice portion of fish 'n chips.”  
“No, better to stay healthy,” she reassured him, “Are you planning to return to work?”  
John scoffed. “I'm trying to. I work from home, but that's not the problem.”  
“What is the problem then?” Clara inquired curiously and once more John asked himself why he was even telling her all of this. He didn't even want to be here at all. Why couldn't he just thank Clara for the meeting and go back home?  
“I'm a writer,” he said eventually, “Though currently I'm a writer without an idea what to write about. But that's fine. An idea will strike me at some point. I hope.”  
“Anything I've read?”  
“I doubt it,” he laughed.  
“You never know,” she shrugged, “I read a lot of things. What's your alias?”  
John raised an eyebrow at her. “What makes you think I use an alias?”  
“Well, John Smith isn't a name that sparks a lot of curiosity in people. We all have a neighbour or an acquaintance somewhere that is called John Smith. I think your agent would have advised you to pick something else.”  
Clara wasn't dumb. He had to give her that. And, as a matter of fact, he was trying hard not to be impressed.  
“The Doctor,” he replied after a moment, “That's my pen name. My agent wanted something more realistic, but she doesn't always get what she wants.”  
Clara smiled at him once more. “I like it. And I'll look it up.”  
“Good,” John chuckled, “Drive up my book sales. At least I'll be able to afford food until I've come up with a new idea.”  
When Clara reached for her tea cup, John thought that maybe it hadn't been the stupidest idea to meet with her. There wouldn't be a repetition, but at least it hadn't been as much a waste of time as he would have thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :)))
> 
> Note: James Alistair Bowman was an alias suggested to the 8th Doctor by his companion Grace. I read up on aliases used by the Doctor in search of a name for Clara's late boyfriend (Eleven) and liked this one the most. His friends called him Jamie.

“I let myself in, no worries,” her voice came from the kitchen and John immediately let out a deep growl. He rued the day he had given Missy the key to his house, but he had decided that someone should have it in case of an emergency. John didn't have friends or family and the closest person in his life was his boss, his agent, Missy. John hated her and Missy hated him in return, but their relationship was mutually beneficial, or at least it had been until his writer's block. He wrote books that made her rich, she got them published under the best conditions possible. It worked.  
“Hello Missy,” he greeted her without enthusiasm as he dropped his coat over a chair to dry. The rain was still pouring down like it had this morning.  
“Thanks, John, I'm doing really well, too. How nice of you to ask,” she spat at him, not moving from her spot at the kitchen table. “You've been gone a long time and didn't answer your phone. I was beginning to think you were dead in a ditch somewhere,” Missy said casually while inspecting her nails.  
“Sorry to disappoint you. You're not gonna inherit this house any time soon.”  
Missy snorted. “As if I wanted that. What I want is a new book. Got any of those?”  
“Working on it,” John hissed sharply, “You said you'd give me time.”  
Finally she rose from her seat and walked up to him, eyeing him closely. “I said that. Four months ago. Tick tock, Doctor.”  
Missy walked past him, reaching for her coat, and headed towards the door. “And the next one better be a smashing success,” she called out before the front door closed behind her.

John leaned back against the kitchen counter once she was gone. How could he tell her that he hadn't written a single word since the surgery? Missy wouldn't tolerate his writer's block forever and he knew it. Yet there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it either except to try and get over it. John glanced at the door to his office, considering giving it a try, but decided against it. The weather was shit and he had to stick to his exercise plan, so instead of writing or cycling his usual path through London, John decided to spend the next hour on his exercise bike indoors.  
However he soon realized that the monotonous movement left too much room for thinking. His thoughts kept circling around Clara Oswald and the strange meeting they had had this morning and John couldn't say how exactly he felt about it. He hadn't hated it, which had come as a surprise to him. So the rest was simply confusing and John didn't know just what to make of it. But he wouldn't have to. He would never see Clara Oswald again and in time the thoughts about her would fade away.

* * *

Clara set the wine glass back down and put her markings aside when the door bell rang. She opened the door to see her best friend standing in front of it, looking more than a little annoyed.  
“It's Saturday night,” Amy complained as she made her way past Clara into the flat, “We're young, we should go out and do something!”  
She plopped down on the couch and only moments later her gaze wandered to the essays Clara had been grading for the last half hour.  
“This is exactly what I'm talking about,” Amy said, pointing at her school work.  
“Care for a glass of wine?” Clara asked and went to fetch it before Amy could even reply.  
A few moments later Clara had discarded the homework for good and was sitting next to her best friend, sipping her wine and feeling a little glad that she had company now.  
“Clara, I'm serious,” Amy said after a while, “We should go out more often. You need it, and I certainly need it, too.”  
“Well, what have you got in mind?”  
A wide grin spread over Amy's face as she turned around to face Clara properly. “There is this speed dating thing next Saturday and-”  
She broke off when Clara started to groan, rolling her eyes in the process.  
“You don't have to take somebody home, Clara. But at least you get to go out and meet people. Talk to someone who is older than 15. Please, do it for me.”  
With a sigh Clara leaned back against the sofa. “I'm not ready to date, Amy. It's been four months. I thought Jamie and I. . . I thought we'd last forever,” she admitted.  
Suddenly Amy reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. “I know that,” her voice was full of compassion as she spoke and Clara had been more grateful for her friendship in the last few months than ever before, “And it's like I said. You don't have to look for someone new. But maybe you'll find a friend. Or at least have a nice conversation.”  
Slowly Clara nodded. Amy was right. It wouldn't hurt her to go out and try to mingle.  
“Good,” Amy concluded with a smile, “It's better than to just sit in here, work and. . . read books.”  
Her friend's gaze fell on the book Clara had almost forgotten about. After her meeting with John Smith she had stopped by a book shop and bought one of his novels. To her surprise she had found that he had written quite a collection of those and she had had to choose from no less than 5 books just from the last two years. That was how Clara had ended up with a rather sinister sounding crime novel.  
“The Doctor. What sort of name is that?” Amy asked, turning the book around in her hands.  
Clara cleared her throat. “Remember what we talked about a while ago?”  
Her friend raised her eyebrows. “We talked about a lot of things. Jamie. My non-existent love life. You definitely not getting a cat because that's the beginning of the end for every young woman in her late 20s. Courtney Woods and her attempts to make your classes a living hell.”  
“I met him. Today,” Clara confessed. She had talked to Amy about wanting to meet the recipient of Jamie's heart on several occasions, but her friend had been really against the idea.  
Amy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Well, at least it's not the cat. So, how was it?”  
“Strange,” she admitted, “Not exactly like I had expected it to go.”  
“Well, what exactly did you expect?”  
Clara blew the air out between her teeth and sank deeper into the pillows on her sofa. “I don't know. But I was nervous and he was weird and a tiny bit rude and I don't know. But it was also good, you know? I mean, it was good to see that another person is alive because -”  
She broke off, not able to say the words aloud. Someone else was alive because Jamie had died.  
“I needed to see that my decision has been the right one.”  
“It was the only decision, Clara,” Amy reminded her gently, “The doctors said that it was unlikely he would ever wake up. And even if, he wouldn't have been the same. That's not what Jamie would have wanted.”  
“I know,” Clara replied, “And it's a relief to know that it at least saved somebody else's life.”  
She nodded towards the book in her friend's hands. “He's the author. His name is John Smith and he's doing quite well now after the surgery.”  
“Well, that's good,” Amy smiled at her and reached for her wine glass.  
Clara's gaze trailed to her own wine glass in her hands and suddenly her thoughts wandered back to this morning, to the strange meeting with John Smith. Clara couldn't even say what sort of impression he had made on her because she was still utterly torn between liking him and disliking him. But her curiosity was sparked. She wanted to know who John Smith was and what sort of life he was leading. John Smith. The man who walked around with the last remnant her boyfriend had left behind. His beating heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comment :)

As she made her way to his house Clara considered and reconsidered turning around and going back home multiple times and yet a short while later she could already see it, an ordinary house on an ordinary street. Clara had spent the last week thinking about John Smith and the whole situation and she had come to the conclusion that she needed to know more about it. So she had sat down with her laptop, researching everything there was to know about heart transplants, yet it hadn't really given her the answers she had wanted. The only way to get the answers she wanted was to talk to him.  
“Why am I even doing this?” Clara whispered to herself as she came to a halt on his doorstep, clutching the cake she had made this morning in her hands.  
She took one more deep breath and then rang the doorbell.  
John Smith took a while to open, but eventually he appeared in the door frame, wearing a sweat stained shirt, a towel around his neck and a deep frown on his face. Clara had obviously interrupted his workout.  
“What are _you_ doing here?” he barked at her.  
“Hi. Sorry. I'm. . . err-” Clara spluttered nervously and eventually she held up the cake in her hands, “I was in the area and I thought you might like some cake. Also, I wanted to tell you that I've read your book and-”  
“How do you know where I live?” John interrupted her, his voice sharp and his features still turned into a frown.  
She cleared her thrown, slightly taken aback by his rudeness. That was how they had started out a week ago as well, but it had gotten better during the course of their conversation, so Clara had assumed he would at least not be mad to see her again. Apparently she had been wrong. “The hospital gave me your address along with your phone number,” she explained after a moment of confusion.  
“They shouldn't have,” he spat, “And I don't eat cake. I'm on a strict diet, remember?”  
And before Clara knew what was happening the door was slammed shut in her face.  
“Huh,” she huffed, “What an arse.”

Clara turned around and had already walked a couple of steps when suddenly someone called her by her name.  
“Miss Oswald?!”  
She looked over her shoulder and spotted John Smith by the door, but she was done with him and she didn't have the slightest intention of going back just to be humiliated a little more. He was an arse and she should have noticed it a week ago. No need to waste any more time on him.  
“Miss Oswald, wait!” he called after her when she continued her pace and then Clara could hear his footsteps following her, “I'm sorry, okay?”  
Clara spun around on the spot and glared at him. There were so many things on her mind that she would have loved to throw at him, but he spoke again before she even had the chance.  
“Sorry,” he apologized again, “Manners aren't really my thing. And neither are human interactions.”  
“I can slightly see that,” Clara responded, frowning at the man in front of her. John Smith was a strange person and she shouldn't have come here at all. “Shame though. Guess I'll have to eat this cake, which, by the way, is very low on calories – for a cake – all by myself.”  
“Yeah, shame,” John Smith gave her a reluctant smile, “Cause I would have offered you a cup of tea to go with it.”  
She shrugged. “Guess you'll have to stick to tea and I'll stick to this,” Clara replied, still a little angry.  
“Please, Miss Oswald. Come inside,” he said and for some reason she got the impression that he meant it.  
It couldn't hurt, could it? She was here now and she had prepared the cake. After today she would never have to see him ever again if she didn't want to.  
“Fine,” Clara replied after a moment of hesitation.  
John Smith smiled at her and nodded in the direction his house before he started walking back and hesitantly Clara followed after him. 

Clara wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but his house certainly didn't meet those expectations. It was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside, with spacious rooms and somehow it reminded her of a hospital or an art gallery – minus the art. The walls were white and empty, giving the place an almost sterile look and John Smith seemed to own nothing but the essential furniture. There wasn't even a potted plant.  
“Earl Grey? Yorkshire? Herbal?” he asked her from the kitchen and Clara stepped through the living room to follow him, setting the cake down on the table.  
“Yorkshire, thanks,” she smiled at him even though he was too busy with the kettle to look at her. Clara let her gaze wander around a little more. “Not a fan of plants?”  
“Had to get rid of them all. Too many germs in the soil,” John Smith explained drily as he handed her a steaming mug. Right. She had read about that in one of the articles.  
“Sorry, Mr Smith. I should have known,” Clara replied carefully and blew on her tea to cool it down.  
“You know what? Since you're already invading my privacy you might as well call me John,” he told her nonchalantly and reached for a knife to start cutting the cake.  
Clara snorted. “I doubt many people invade your privacy if you're as friendly to them as you are to me.”  
John threw her a dirty glance before he pushed a plate in her direction. “I think you'll find that I am friendlier towards you than anyone else I've talked to in the past few years.”  
Clara wasn't quite sure what to respond, so instead she helped herself to a piece of the cake while John hungrily took a bite off his slice and suddenly she noticed his eyes widen in amazement.  
With a smirk on her face she tried her best to swallow her pride. “Like it?” she asked, biting down on her lip.  
John cleared his throat and swallowed the cake before he replied. “I haven't had cake in a very long time. So I suppose I don't really know what cake's supposed to taste like anymore.”  
“You can admit that it's good,” she chuckled, “A compliment won't hurt you.”  
“Well, I'm fairly certain I've eaten worse things,” he growled.  
“Thanks,” Clara shrugged, “We can work on your compliments later.”  
John pushed his plate aside, looking straight at her. “Why have you come here?” he asked out of the blue, “Why bring cake? You don't know me. Why are you being nice to a complete stranger?”  
“Maybe I want to,” Clara replied harshly, “Maybe I want to get to know you. You're rude, but you're an awesome writer. I've read one of your books within three days and I've already started the next. I thought-”  
Clara broke off because she couldn't quite explain it herself. John had rebuffed her quite harshly. She shouldn't keep trying. And yet. . . And yet he was all that was left of Jamie in this world.  
“I thought we could act like two civilized people. Just meet for coffee every now and then and chat.”  
“Oh, you wouldn't like that, trust me,” John replied.  
“How would _you_ know?” Clara snapped back at him and suddenly rose from her seat, “You don't know a single thing about me apart from my name! You haven't asked me a single question except why I wanted to meet and talk to you!”  
“Clara-”  
“Don't bother,” she cut him off and pushed the chair back against the table, “I'll find the way out. Enjoy the cake.”

She was out of the door before John even had a chance of following her and Clara was glad when he didn't even make an attempt at it. John Smith had no interest in her, he didn't want to talk and he didn't even like her enough to at least pretend to be nice. Clara had been wrong. He wasn't what was left of Jamie. Her boyfriend was gone, she knew that now. And she was done with John Smith.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing comments :) Glad you're enjoying the fic so far.
> 
> Also a little apology to those of my readers waiting for an update on my Colepaldi fic. I'm on it, but I'm currently stuck between two options plot-wise. Bear with me here.

John darted after her immediately and only seemed to come back to his senses when his hand was already on the door handle. Why was he even trying to follow Clara? He wanted her to never come back and now he had probably achieved that goal. He had ruined it earlier by running after her on the street and apologizing for his rudeness. He wouldn't ruin it a second time. No, it was better for them both if she stayed away.  
And yet some silly part of him wanted to go after her, wanted her to come back and stay. Clara was a nice girl and she was nice to him and seeing that disappointed look on her face almost hurt. Damn this stupid, new heart beating inside his chest that was making him want to do things so much against his own will, especially when they were connected to Clara. John needed to forget about her as quickly as possible or he would never return to his old self.

As John made his way back into the kitchen he tried his best to push his thoughts about Clara aside, even though his guilt kept nagging him. Why did he have to feel something like guilt at all? It was strange and utterly foreign to him. He had never cared about people before, especially not a stranger. With a sigh John decided that it was probably best to finish his workout. Nothing better than exercise to clear the head.

* * *

“So, what's your favourite colour?”  
Clara opened her eyes a little wider, staring at the young man in front of her in utter disbelief.  
“My favourite _colour_?” she asked back. Of all the questions she had been asked tonight, this was definitely the most ridiculous one.  
The young man laughed a little nervously. “Everyone just asks for your name or age,” he explained sheepishly, a flicker of fear showing in his eyes, “I wanted to start with something different.”  
“Well, you certainly did,” Clara said with a heavy sigh. This entire thing had been a stupid idea. She should never have come here in the first place and she would never again let Amy talk her into something like speed dating. She wouldn't find anyone here. Neither a lover nor a friend.  
“I'm sorry,” she apologized quickly as she rose from her chair, “I think I should go. You're nice. Sorry, I'm just. . . sorry.”  
She swiftly reached for her jacket and threw a glance in Amy's direction who was looking more than a little confused. Then she headed out of the door before everyone else started staring at her, too.

Clara took her first real breath when she had stepped out into the cool October air and to her dismay she realized that it was raining again. Always that damned London rain. It had been raining on the day she had met John for the first time and for some reason she felt reminded of that now. Clara had been nervous then, but so full of hope that their meeting would make her feel a little better, but it hadn't. Quite the opposite. Now Clara still felt furious, especially with herself for having had the idea in the first place and she found it impossible to ban the thought about him from her mind. How dare that bastard? How dare he walk around with Jamie's heart!  
“Are you okay?” Amy's voice tore her from her internal rant, “You seem a little. . . tense.”  
“I met him again today,” she admitted. Clara just had to get this off her chest, no matter what Amy had to say about it.  
Her friend gave her that look, that one look that said “I told you from the beginning how utterly stupid that idea was” and Clara groaned before Amy had even said a word.  
“I know, I know,” she sighed, “I shouldn't have and if I could I would undo this entire day. No! Better yet! If I could I would go back and slap him so hard he would be transported back into elementary school where his teacher can give him another lesson about manners!”  
Amy chuckled softly. “Come on, let's go home and you can tell me about everything that has happened on the way.”  
Clara frowned at her friend. “But what about the speed dating? You begged me to go with you.”  
“Nah,” she shrugged, “That was kinda boring. I certainly won't meet the love of my life here.”  
As they made their way back to the Underground station Clara told Amy everything and slowly she could feel her initial anger give way to disappointment and even sadness. She had put so much hope in John Smith, thinking that if only she got to know him, she might get a tiny part of Jamie back. But Jamie was gone, along with her hope.  
“You need to forget about it,” Amy told her after having listened to her rant for a long time, “He's an arse and he doesn't even deserve your attention. And he certainly doesn't deserve your cake.”  
Clara couldn't help but chuckle. “You're probably right. I just wish it had been different.”  
“So do I,” Amy said with a sigh as she placed her arm around her shoulder and together they made their way home.

When she arrived at her flat Clara was greeted by the sight of a blinking light on her answering machine and she instantly recognized her grandmother's number. A light smile spread across her lips when she kicked off her shoes, changed into her pyjamas and fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen before she dialled her gran's number.  
“Hello darling,” her grandmother's warm voice immediately lightened her mood a little, “How is my favourite granddaughter?”  
Clara sighed. “Having a bad day. I miss him,” she confessed after a moment.  
“I know,” she replied understandingly, “But it gets better, sweetheart, trust me. And in the meantime you just have to keep doing what you do because you're amazing at it. Someone's gotta teach those kids about Jane Austen and if you're not gonna do it, then who is?”  
A soft laugh came over her lips and Clara was so glad to have her grandmother's support. She always understood and she never judged her.  
“I contacted him, gran,” Clara admitted, “The man who received Jamie's heart. I met him.”  
“Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me how it went!” she prompted her and Clara immediately started telling her all about it, not leaving out a single detail. Her grandmother listened intently, not interrupting her once.  
“He is just so rude, grandma, he is a complete arse and I can't believe that that's the man Jamie saved,” Clara said angrily and took her first deep breath when she had finished her rant.  
“Oh, forget about him,” her gran replied, “You tried and it wasn't what you had expected. Let him be a grump if he wants to, but don't let him drag you down with him. You're better than that.”  
“But it's so unfair that he gets to live and Jamie doesn't. He doesn't even deserve his heart!”  
“Clara, don't be harsh,” her grandmother said gently, “That is not up to you to judge.”  
“I know,” Clara sighed in defeat, “I know that.”  
“Forget about him,” she repeated Amy's words, “He's not Jamie, he has nothing to do with him and if he treats you like that he isn't worth your time.”  
Slowly Clara nodded, knowing that if the two most important people in her life gave her the same kind of advice, she would probably do well to listen to it. She would forget John Smith and move on with her life as best as she could.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, guys!!! :D *big group hug*

John had been staring at the phone for about 10 minutes already and he still hadn't made up his mind. He should call her and apologize. And yet he absolutely shouldn't.  
It wasn't his thing to brood over something he had said or done and he usually didn't give a damn about whether he had treated someone poorly or not, but somehow that damned Clara Oswald wouldn't leave his head. John had gone to bed the previous night, so sure that when he woke up he would have forgotten all about her, only to realize that her face still kept invading his mind, haunting him with its hurt look and to his own surprise he still felt that terrible, nagging guilt for letting her storm out of his house like that.  
But if he called her and apologized Clara might want to spend more time with him and he still wasn't sure what to think of that. Would he like that? No, John didn't think so, but he wasn't sure. He usually liked keeping to himself, writing. . . but writing wasn't working out so much at the moment and then there was still this guilt. With a groan John reached for the phone and dialled her number.  
He sat there, listening to the monotonous beeping in his ear as he waited for Clara to pick up. It was a Sunday noon, it shouldn't take her that long to answer her phone. Then, after the 4th beep, a mechanical voice announced that he could leave a message.  
“Hey Clara,” he cleared his throat, “So, erm, this is John, calling to say sorry. I wasn't being very nice yesterday, you know me and manners. Anyway, yeah, that's basically it. Bye.”

When John hung up he had expected to feel better, but to his surprise he found that nothing at all had changed. He still felt a sort of stinging sensation in his chest whenever he thought about Clara and it was a foreign feeling. He didn't like it and he had to do something to finally make it go away.

* * *

Clara had spent half the afternoon cleaning her flat, but she hadn't been able to take her mind off the phone call she had received earlier. John had called and Clara hadn't answered because she was dead set on taking her grandmother's and friend's advice. She would forget about John. Then, an hour later, the phone had rung a second and a third time and Clara had been tempted to pick it up only to shout at him, but she had thought better of it and eventually his calls had stopped. Now Clara could continue to forget about him. 

Until her doorbell rang.

Clara put the broom aside and made her way towards the door, thinking that it might be Amy, but when she opened it she stared right into John's face.  
“Hi,” he greeted her sheepishly.  
Clara considered her reaction for a moment and then, on a whim, decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. She slammed the door shut in his face. And yet she couldn't find the heart to actually move away from the door.  
“Clara, please, I came to apologize. I left you three messages, but your phone must be broken,” he called out to her through the door.  
Clara frowned. “How did you even get my address?”  
She heard him groan on the other side. “Same way you got mine. Please, just open the door.”  
She sighed and considered it for a moment. It was probably a stupid idea, seeing that she wanted to forget all about the entire endeavour of finding the recipient of Jamie's heart, but since he was here already and for once sounded sincere Clara decided to open the door once again.  
“Okay,” she said strictly, putting her arms akimbo, “You came to apologize, so apologize.”  
It was so obvious that John was uncomfortable with the whole situation as he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Then finally he looked up at her, a sort of sheepish smile on his face.  
“Sorry?” he asked and then suddenly, when Clara was already about to close the door again, he seemed to remember something and a few moments later drew a book from out of his jacket pocket, holding it in her direction. “I brought you something.”  
Clara took it reluctantly, eyeing the cover with curiosity. _An Unearthly Child_ , by The Doctor.  
“It was my first,” he explained after a moment, “It's out of print now because it's ancient. Probably as old as you are.”  
“Why, thank you for the lovely compliment,” Clara replied sternly, but then couldn't hold back the laugh that came over her lips. John was trying, probably as best as he could. She should let that one go.  
“You mentioned that you liked another one of my books, so I thought-” John broke off, just gesturing helplessly towards the book in her hands.  
“I appreciate it,” the gave him a soft smile, “Thank you. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”  
Clara wasn't sure why she had even asked at all because merely 10 minutes ago she had been ready to slap him because of his earlier rudeness, but her anger over that had already started to fade away. Jamie had often done that, made her mad and then done something silly so she had had no other choice but to forgive him. But then she noticed how uncomfortable John looked all of a sudden right before he put on a smile.  
“Sure,” he replied, “Why not.”

Slowly Clara led him into her kitchen and filled the kettle while she grew increasingly aware of the silence that was spreading between them. It was just so weird between them and yet she just couldn't bring herself to give up.  
“I liked _The Hand of Fear_ ,” Clara eventually said to end the awkward silence, “It was good.”  
John cleared his throat. “Glad you enjoyed it,” he replied, “So, what do you do for a living?”  
Clara chuckled as she came to look at him. “Are you asking because I got mad at you for not asking me questions?”  
“Maybe?” he looked at her and still seemed to be utterly uncomfortable, sitting there on her kitchen chair with his coat still on as if he was ready to jump up and flee at any given moment, “Job seems like a good point to start.”  
Clara shrugged. “It is and I'm a teacher. I teach English at Coal Hill school.”  
“Should have known,” John gave a short laugh, “You've certainly got the teacher thing going.”  
Doubtfully she raised her eyebrows at him.  
“Well, you know, you're kind of. . . teacher-y,” he groaned, “I should probably stop talking now.”  
Clara chuckled as she reached for the kettle and poured them both a cup of tea. “You really have to work on those compliments, you know.”  
“What is that smell? Are you burning scented candles somewhere?” John suddenly asked, obviously trying to divert her attention because Clara was fairly certain that her flat smelled of nothing but cleaning fluid at the moment.  
“No, nothing. Why?” she asked back.  
John sniffed, but eventually seemed to decide to let it go as he reached for his tea cup and took a careful sip. Again a silence spread over the two of them, but this time Clara didn't really mind at all. It was definitely going better than last time.  
“I'm going to read your first book as soon as I've finished _Forest of the Dead_ ,” she said after a moment, “Thank you for lending it to me. I'll give it back as soon as I'm done with it.”  
John raised his head to look at her, appearing a little puzzled. “You don't have to. You can keep it. I still have a few copies and they're just gathering dust.”  
“Alright,” she nodded, “Then I'll let you know what I think. Anything new on the horizon yet?”  
John sighed and looked down at his mug again. “I'm afraid not. I think they may have amputated my creative nerve during the surgery,” he uttered a soft, sad laugh.  
Clara smiled at him in reply. “I sincerely doubt that. You just have to get back on track. I mean, you're still recovering.”  
“Maybe,” he said and then something in his voice changed, “In the meantime I'll just stick to my exercise and cycle away in front of the telly. Or outside when the weather is nice.”  
“Do you mind if I join you?” Clara asked out of the blue. Again she had no idea where it was coming from, but right now they were connecting or at least she though they were and she wanted to hold on to that.  
“What? Cycling?” John raised his eyebrows.  
Admittedly it was another pretty stupid idea. She owned a bike. One she hadn't used it in over 10 years. But they said you never forget how to ride a bike, right?  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed, putting on a smile, “Bit of fresh air would do me good.”  
John hesitated and she could clearly see that she had pushed it too far and Clara wanted to smack herself for making the same mistake again. Just because he was talking to her now didn't mean that he wanted to meet with her again. John didn't want an intruder in his life.  
“Sure, why not?” he replied to her surprise, “Weather's supposed to be nice next Saturday.”  
A smile spread over her face when his words had sunk in. “Alright. Next Saturday then.”  
Maybe he wanted to get to know her after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :)

Why on earth had he agreed to this? What was it about Clara Oswald that made it so hard for John to be himself around her? He wasn't a nice guy, he wasn't the type to apologize for being who he was, especially not with a present and he certainly wasn't the type to go cycling with a stranger who should just stay the hell away from him.  
And yet here he was, standing in front of his house, watching Clara push her bike down the road in his direction. The weather was too beautiful to cancel on her and now he just had to go through with it.  
“Good morning,” Clara greeted him cheerfully and John wanted to groan in response.  
“Why are you pushing your bike?” he asked Clara when she had reached him, “I mean, it's got wheels, you could. . . ah, nevermind. Shall we go?”  
But then John took a closer look at her bicycle and only now he noticed the two very flat tyres. “Ah, I see.”  
Clara gave him an apologetic smile. “Got a tyre pump?”  
With a sigh he bent down and unhooked the pump from his own bike before he went down on his knees next to hers to get started when he suddenly noticed the big pile of dust that was gathering all over the frame.  
“When was the last time you used this thing?” John asked her as he started to pump air into the first tyre.  
“Uhm, I'm not exactly sure,” she replied sheepishly.  
“But it was in this lifetime, right?” he eyed her with suspicion. Clara didn't really seem like a bicycle person at all. “Do you even know how to ride it?”  
Clara stared down at him, looking more than a little hurt as she folded her arms in front of her chest. “Of course I can ride a bike!” she answered defensively, “My Dad taught me when I was 6.”  
He huffed. “That's been a while.”  
“Oi!”

When he had finished pumping up her tyres John rose back to his feet and took another good look at Clara, noticing that she seemed anything but prepared for a bicycle tour. She was wearing a skirt and tights, the only thing really suitable for riding a bike of a different sort being her boots.  
“And you are absolutely sure you want to do this?” John raised his eyebrows at her, giving her – and himself – one last chance to call off this entire thing.  
“Absolutely,” Clara confirmed and swung one leg over her bike.  
John watched her for a moment and was hardly able to refrain from laughing as she struggled to reach the saddle with her height. It was more than obvious that she hadn't used the bike in at least a decade and right now he had his doubts that she would even be able to reach the pedals.  
“Okay, I'm ready,” Clara said a little breathlessly once she had sat down, wobbling on the bicycle and trying very hard to keep her balance when she had finally managed to find support, holding on to a street lamp.  
John was torn between going ahead or asking her just one more time if she was sure, but he knew that it would just end in the same answer. Clara Oswald was stubborn. He had learned that much about her.  
“Alright,” he exhaled sharply and jumped on his bike.  
John started to cycle along the lane in the direction of Hyde Park and Clara followed after him, still struggling to keep her balance, but getting better as they went ahead.  
“I finished _An Unearthly Child_ last night and _Forest of the Dead_ earlier this week,” she told him after a moment, “It's quite intriguing. That girl, Melody, is she based on someone you know?”  
“Yeah. She is my wife.”  
“Your what?”

John had meant to warn Clara as soon as he saw it, but everything went too fast for him to react. Within seconds the branch got caught in Clara's tyre and she lost her balance for good, falling forward over the handlebar and landing on the pavement with a thud.  
“Clara!” John cried out, jumped off his bike and immediately bent down to see if she was alright. She groaned when he reached for her arm and as she turned around he realized to his horror that there was blood running down all over her face.  
“Don't move!” he bellowed at her while he racked his brain for a solution to stop the bleeding and the only thing he could think of right now was his jacket. Quickly John stripped out of it and pressed the dark fabric against the wound on her forehead at which Clara winced with pain. The wound looked bad and John knew that the jacket wouldn't do the trick. Especially since Clara was getting paler with every passing second.  
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he reasoned and took a glimpse under the jacket. The wound was bleeding too heavily for it to stop on its own. It probably needed stitching. “Can you get up?”  
When Clara nodded slowly, John reached into his trouser pocket and drew out his key, quickly fastening their bikes against the nearest street lamp before he held out his hand to her and dragged Clara back to her feet.  
“I don't think the hospital is necessary,” she argued weekly.  
“Oh, yes, it is,” John corrected her strictly, “My car is parked back at the house. Just a few steps. Come on!”

* * *

John hated the hospital corridors. He hated how much time he had already spent in them and even though they were here because of Clara, it didn't make it any better. Above all he hated that these corridors always gave him time to think while a doctor was patching Clara up. It had taken him a while to realize it, to make sense of these strange feelings, the need to apologize, the dread in seeing her hurt. He liked Clara and he had probably liked her from the start. John reasoned that it could have been worse, but it had been so long since he had felt any kind of affection towards someone else that he wasn't quite sure what to do with it.  
Damn Dr Martha Jones for being right once more. Maybe he really was in need of a friend and maybe Clara could be it. At least she seemed to want to stick around, but John knew that sooner or later he would end up scaring her off with who he was, so he probably shouldn't get too attached.  
“Mr Smith?” Dr Jones' voice tore him from his thoughts, “You're not scheduled for an appointment today, are you?”  
John turned around and opened his mouth to explain his presence, but he couldn't think of anything. Except to admit that he had met with Clara. “No, I'm not,” he blurted out, “I'm here with someone else.”  
His doctor raised her eyebrows at him, but luckily he was saved the explanation as the door next to him opened and Clara stepped out, looking pale but otherwise fine. The wound on her forehead had stopped bleeding, but was still red and looked quite painful beneath the stitches.  
“Ah,” Dr Jones put on a knowing smile. Of course she would recognise her. “I see. Well, I'll see you at your next appointment.”

Dr Jones rushed off and John made his way towards Clara to take her home. “How's the head?” he asked her when they started walking in the direction of the exit.  
“It'll be fine. Hurting, but that's natural, I guess. Cycling was probably a stupid idea.”  
“Yeah, it was,” John confirmed, “You should probably stick to exercise bikes for now.”  
Clara chuckled, which was a good sign. It meant that despite the pain she must be in, there was still room for humour.  
“Sorry about your jacket,” Clara said after a moment and handed it back to him.  
He shrugged. “It'll be fine after a wash. That's the advantage of black clothes.”  
To his surprise she chuckled once more. “Is it my imagination or have you gotten nicer all of a sudden? You haven't insulted me once since the fall.”  
John let out a groan. “Fine, if that's what you want. You hit your head, so of course it's your imagination. You're probably hallucinating right now. Better?”  
“Yeah,” she giggled, “I should probably call a taxi now.”  
“Don't bother,” John replied, “I'll give you a ride home. It's on the way.”  
Suddenly he could feel Clara's eyes on him and he was almost afraid to turn around and look at her.  
“Wow, you really have gotten nicer.”  
“On second though,” he added, smiling at her to let her know he was joking, “I think a taxi would be better.”  
Clara only grinned at him in reply and together they made their way back to the car.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so very much for the comments :) They always put a smile on my face <3

“Thank you,” Clara said sincerely as she plopped down on the sofa, “For driving me home. And to the hospital in the first place.”  
John simply shrugged in reply, not really knowing what to say to her. And then there was this scent again, the one he had noticed during his first visit to her flat, and again it seemed strangely familiar and somehow smelled like home.  
“Are you sure you're not stashing scented candles somewhere?” he frowned at her.  
Clara chuckled. “Yes, very sure. Why? I smell nothing.”  
“Maybe I'm imagining it,” he replied for lack of something else to say, “And I should probably get going, let you rest.”  
“Or,” Clara threw him an expectant glance, “You could stay for a bit and we can. . . talk?”  
“About what?”  
She burst into laughter in front of him and John couldn't quite understand what was so funny about the situation, but he had to admit that he didn't mind hearing her laugh at all. In fact, he liked it.  
Clara patted the empty space next to her and reluctantly John stepped closer and eventually sat down, still eyeing her in confusion.  
“Sometimes people just talk, you know? Without having agreed on a topic beforehand,” she chuckled softly, “Like, you could tell me about Melody, if you want to.”  
John raised his eyebrows at her. It had been decades since he had talked about her and, if he was quite honest, he couldn't even remember the last time he had thought about her before Clara had mentioned the name this morning.  
“Sorry, I just didn't know you were married. I'm probably too curious for my own good,” Clara added after a moment, her voice sounding a little small and insecure.  
“I'm not married,” John said drily, “Well, I was. Decades ago. Melody wasn't her real name, I changed it for the book. But she was raised in an orphanage. Just the crime stuff didn't really happen there.”  
“You're not married anymore?”  
John shook his head. “She died. That book was my goodbye to her. And it's what made me realize I was born to write novels, not newspaper and magazine articles.”  
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Clara replied quietly and suddenly John thought he could see tears forming in her eyes. She had recently lost her boyfriend. He should say something about that. Something nice. Something comforting. But his mind was blank.  
“Well, like I said, it's been decades,” John said brusquely and quickly reminded himself to use a softer tone with Clara, especially around this topic, “What about your boyfriend? I mean, I know it was a traffic accident, but we haven't talked about him. Or you. Or. . . well, you know what I mean.”  
Clara sniffed softly and tried to straighten her shoulders, but soon she slumped back down, not even looking at him. “Jamie had borrowed my motorcycle that day, said he wanted to run some errands, said he'd pick me up after school. He never showed up.”  
John remained silent, completely at a loss. He wasn't good at this sort of thing. He had no idea what to say to Clara, how to make her feel better because cheering someone up wasn't something he had really tried before. Luckily for him he didn't have to as Clara continued quietly.  
“How did you feel after your wife's death? Everyone keeps telling me that it gets better, but I'm not really seeing that right now.”  
“I don't remember,” he admitted honestly, “It's been so long I can't even remember the sound of her voice. I know I must have loved her, but after three decades there's just nothing left of it.”  
Clara huffed softly. “I wish I could be like you. So completely without emotion.”  
“I am not without emotion,” John argued defensively, feeling a little hurt at the accusation. He wasn't as cold as she was making him sound.  
“Oh?” Clara gave him a curious look.  
“Yes,” he replied determinedly, “For starters, I'm beginning to not dislike you.”  
It took her a moment, but after a few seconds Clara started to smile at him and John couldn't help but chuckle.  
“I think that was the first compliment you've given me,” she giggled.  
“Well, don't get used to it,” he replied, still smiling, “And I should really let you rest now. Once your head is healed I'm getting you training wheels and we can try again.”  
“We'll talk about that later,” she laughed as John rose from his seat and only now he realized that he had probably succeeded in cheering her up. The conversation had started out so grim and now she was laughing and it was because of something that he had said. Maybe he wasn't as bad at it as he would have thought.

* * *

“Well, that has healed pretty well,” the nurse told Clara upon inspecting the cut on her forehead, “The doctor says we can take out the stitches now.”  
He gave her a friendly smile as he reached for a pair of scissors and Clara immediately flinched at the sight of them. “It won't hurt, will it?”  
“Not at all,” he confirmed in a calm voice and for some reason she believed him, “It might tickle a bit when I pull them out, but that's it.”  
“Okay,” she inhaled deeply and leaned forward, focusing on his name tag as he cut the stitches.  
“There, all done,” Rory told her after just a few moments and put away the scissors. She really hadn't felt a thing.  
“Oh,” Clara uttered in surprise, “That really didn't hurt.”  
Rory smiled at her. “Do I look like I would lie to my patients?”

He led her outside to where Amy was already waiting for her and to Clara's surprise a strange smile appeared on her friend's face once she spotted her.  
Amy approached them both, but her eyes were fixed on the nurse. “So, I guess you took care of my friend? Is she alright now?”  
“Yes,” Rory confirmed, “Clara is fine, but I would advice her not to go cycling again so very soon. At least not without training wheels.”  
Rory chuckled and Clara quickly lowered her gaze. She hadn't told Amy about how she had gotten hurt, afraid her friend would scold her for not heeding her advice. But to her surprise Amy ignored the remark completely and instead laughed at Rory's joke.  
“Well,” the nurse said after a while, “You two take care and don't end up in the casualties department again. I'll know. I've got this shift all week.”  
“No worries,” Amy replied dreamily when Rory headed down the corridor and once he had turned around the nearest corner, she quickly turned towards Clara, “What are you doing tomorrow at this time?”  
Clara frowned at her. “I don't know? Why?” she asked warily.  
Her friend grinned at her. “I'm planning on spraining my ankle tomorrow.”  
“ _What?! _”__  
“Oh, come on!” Amy rolled her eyes, “The nurse is super cute and you heard him. He's here all week. Please, Clara, one more favour.”  
“Amy-” she tried to protest but her friend interrupted her again.  
“If you do this I won't ask how you really injured yourself,” Amy winked at her, “But somehow I'm having my doubts you hit your head in the shower.”  
Clara raised her eyebrows at her. “Are you really gonna hurt your foot just to see him again?”  
“God, no!” Amy laughed, “I'll just pretend to.”  
With a sigh Clara stepped out of the hospital and into the fresh air. “Fine, but that guy better be the one cause I'm not sitting through another speed dating event.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, babes :)

It was almost as if the blank page was laughing at him, taunting him and his inability to do what he had done effortlessly for decades. John didn't have a plot, he didn't have a character. His mind felt utterly empty, as if he had already poured out all the stories and there was simply nothing left to write about. So many books, so many stories and now there was just nothing at all.  
John closed the lid of his laptop with a bang and leaned back in his office chair. What would he do now that writing was no longer an option? He wouldn't starve to death any time soon, not after he had earned enough money from his previous novels to live comfortably for a while, but he wasn't the type to sit around. He needed something to do and then there was Missy. He would have to deal with her as well.  
When the phone to his right rang, John felt glad of the distraction once more until he saw who was calling him and for a moment he considered not even answering it at all. But he had to. Eventually he would have to admit to Missy that he hadn't written a single word since his surgery.  
“What do you want?” he sighed in defeat.  
“A new book, preferably two,” Missy replied, “But right now I really just want you to attend the first screening of your movie.”  
John frowned. “My what?”  
He heard Missy groan on the other end of the line and when she spoke again her voice was heavy with annoyance. “You do remember that you sold the rights to _Deep Breath_ , right? And that they were making a film based on it?”  
“Yes. So?”  
“The first screening is tomorrow and you were invited as I have told you several times. You need to show your face there. Remind the public that you're alive while they're waiting for your next book.”  
“I can't. I have plans,” John lied, his voice harsh. He could think of at least five better ways to spend the evening than in the company of actors and producers and he wasn't really keen on seeing how they had butchered his book.  
“No, you don't and we both know that,” Missy hissed at him, “I would suggest you bring someone to make the evening less boring for you, but I'm guessing your list of friends still isn't that long.”  
“I could bring Vastra and Jenny,” he argued, “In fact, I think I might do that.”  
“Don't you dare,” she threatened him, “You may bring Jenny, but not the rest. You're bad enough on your own. Just go and have them see you and don't insult anyone. I'll email you the details.”  
“Missy-” but before John could protest his publisher has already hung up and John was left staring at the phone.  
He didn't want to go to the movie screening and he certainly didn't want to go alone, so John called the only person he could think of.

* * *

Amy had left the examination room minutes ago and yet she was still standing by the door, chatting with Rory. Apparently her little scheme of pretending to have hurt her ankle had been successful because Rory was laughing and he seemed to be torn between staring at her and avoiding her gaze. Then suddenly her phone vibrated in her pocket and Clara pulled it out to see John's number on the display.  
“Hey,” she greeted him cheerfully, but kept her voice low so as not to disturb the other patients waiting in the same room.  
“Hey,” he replied and hesitated for a moment, “I just wanted to ask how your head is feeling.”  
“Better,” Clara confirmed, “They removed the stitches yesterday. It's as good as healed.”  
“That's, erm,” again he paused, “That's good.”  
When John fell silent on the other end of the line, Clara sighed audibly. “I'm bored. Tell me something.”  
“Well, where are you?”  
“I'm at the hospital-”  
“ _What?!_ ” John suddenly bellowed into her ear, “Is everything alright?”  
“Relax,” she chuckled at the sudden panic in his voice, “Everything's fine. It's just that Amy has a crush on one of the nurses and she is pretending to have hurt her ankle as we speak.”  
“The nurse? What nurse?” the confusion was audible in his voice.  
Clara blew the air out between her lips, throwing a glance at Rory while trying to find a way to describe him. “He's around 30, kinda looking like a dork. His name's Rory.”  
“Rory?” John scoffed, “That guy's a pudding brain.”  
“He's nice,” Clara argued.  
“Well, if you say so.”  
Again a silence spread between the two of them, but before Clara could think of something to say John spoke again.  
“Listen, there is a thing tomorrow. A thing where some people expect me to be and I was wondering. . .,” he paused, “I don't know if you're aware of that, but they made one of my books into a film and they're showing it for the first time tomorrow in front of a small audience.”  
“Wow,” Clara uttered, “That's great. You must be insanely proud. A movie is a big deal.”  
“I wasn't gonna go, but my publisher. . . well, she's kind of insistent.”  
“You should go,” she urged him, “It's a great thing, you should be there. Not because people want you to, but because it's your work they're showing and it's gonna be amazing. It's a big day.”  
“Would you. . . would you like to come with me?” John asked hesitantly, his voice almost shy.  
A wide grin spread over her face when she heard the words and she instantly knew that there was only one possibly answer for that question. “Yes,” she replied happily, “I'd love to come.”  
“Great,” John replied and his voice sounded unusually enthusiastic before he suddenly cleared his throat, “I mean, uhm, alright, I will pick you up at 6?”  
“Sounds perfect,” Clara said, “See you tomorrow.”  
“See you tomorrow,” John replied and Clara couldn't be sure but she thought he sounded as if he was smiling as well as she hung up.

“What are you looking so happy about?” Amy had appeared out of nowhere and Clara almost jumped up in surprise.  
“Uhm, nothing,” she lied nervously, “Just my grandma. How did it go with Rory?”  
Her friend beamed at her in reply. “Rory and I have a date next week. So, shall we meet after work tomorrow and draw up a battle plan?”  
“Sorry, but I've already got plans. How about Saturday instead, huh?”  
Suddenly Amy raised her eyebrows at her, giving her a curious look. “You're very secretive lately. You're not having another stupid idea, are you?” she asked cautiously.  
Clara gave a nervous laugh and quickly looked away. “Of course not. And why would I be secretive?”  
“Well, you definitely lied about how you bumped your head and you've got plans on a Friday night. So. . .”  
“I'm not secretive,” she argued, “Just meeting with a old friend. You don't know them.”  
Eventually Amy shrugged and Clara hoped that she would decide to let it go for now. After her angry rant about John Clara hadn't dared to touch the subject with Amy, afraid of what her friend might say about the fact that she continued to see him. Clara would tell her in time, but first she had to get to know him better.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments :) Ready to see how their 'date' will go?

Clara applied a layer of lipstick when suddenly she heard a car honk outside and it made her hand slip.  
“Damn,” she cursed when she spotted the outcome of her ruined make up and threw the lipstick aside to have a look out of the window and see who was responsible for it. Of course she immediately noticed John's car parked outside. Clara sighed and shook her head before she decided to leave out the lipstick tonight.  
Clara wiped the remaining colour from her lips and grabbed her purse and jacket before she headed downstairs, only to hear John honk a couple more times until she had finally reached his car.  
“You do realize there's such a thing as a doorbell?” she asked him in annoyance as she slid into the passenger's seat.  
“Of course I know,” he replied matter-of-factly, turning the key in the ignition, “I've used yours before.”  
“And why didn't you use it now?”  
John turned around to look at Clara and only now she realized that he was wearing a suit. She hadn't even asked if it was a formal event, just assuming it to be an evening at the cinema. She hadn't even remotely dressed up.  
“Because there's no point in walking up all those steps to your flat just to walk them all back down,” John said as if it should have been obvious.  
Clara decided to just let it go for now and take it with a smile instead. She was happy that he had asked her to accompany him to the movie screening. John was awkward and strange and completely different, but when he wasn't insulting her Clara actually liked being in his company, mostly because he was an interesting man and brilliant author. And because he was the last living piece of Jamie that she was desperately trying to hold on to. It had been hard in the beginning, but now it seemed as if they were actually getting along, at least for his standards. 

“Why did you ask me to join you today?” Clara asked after a moment because she was genuinely curious. So far she had been the one to push for a meeting over coffee or cycling together. It had come as a surprise to her that John had asked her to the cinema, but a good one. It was almost as if he was enjoying her company as well.  
“Cause my publisher said I could bring someone,” John replied coldly, “It's a boring event. I thought it might be less boring if you're there.”  
She chuckled in response. “Yeah, but why me?”  
Clara heard a sharp intake of breath coming from him and he seemed to clench his hands around the steering wheel as if in pain. “I don't have a lot of friends and those I have aren't really good with public gatherings either,” he replied a little too harshly, “Tonight is gonna be a meeting of the pudding brains and I need someone there that I can talk to normally.”  
“And you thought of me,” Clara added, not even trying to hide how proud it made her feel.  
“And I thought of you,” John sighed and he sounded almost defeated.  
Clara smiled in his direction even though he was too focused on the road to see it. “I appreciate it,” she said sincerely, “And I feel honoured.”  
“Honoured?” John turned around for a moment while they stopped at a red light and threw her a confused glance.  
“Yeah,” she nodded, “You are an amazing author and I know the circumstances under which we've met are strange and I know I can be pushy sometimes but I'm. . . I think I'm glad that we can meet like this. Talk. You know.”  
“I'm rude and unmannered,” John scoffed in reply.  
“Not all the time. Not to me,” Clara paused and considered her next step. She knew it was risky and it might push him further away again, but if she was right and if he was willing to admit it. . . “I think you're lonely. I think you want a friend, someone to talk to.”  
To her surprise John laughed in return. “And _you_ want to be that friend?”  
“If you want me to be,” she said coyly, biting down on her lip.  
John didn't answer for a long moment as he drove around a corner just to stop at another traffic light. “And how would that work? This _friendship_?”  
She chuckled. “Like any friendship works. Just hang out and talk when we feel like it. Or go cycling or to the cinema.”  
“That-” he paused, “That doesn't sound too horrible.”  
Clara chuckled once more and leaned back into her seat, knowing that that was the best she would get from him. But maybe in time he would warm up. He certainly seemed to be worth sticking around for.

 

When John pulled up on the street and parked his car a few metres from the cinema Clara could hardly believe the spectacle she saw in front of her eyes.  
“Uhm, John,” she tapped him on the shoulder while he still fiddled with his car keys, unable to tear her gaze away from the crowd, “That's not for your movie, is it?”  
John glanced around. “Oh, yeah, it is. We're here.”  
“John!” Clara almost shouted at him, “There's a red carpet there and press and people queuing for autographs!”  
“Yeah, don't worry,” he told him in a calm manner, “They don't want mine. They're just here for the actors.”  
“I didn't dress for a red carpet event!” she called after him, but John had already left the car.  
With no other choice than to follow him Clara climbed out of the passenger door and glanced down at herself. She had chosen one of her cute dresses, casual but chick, yet not nearly chic enough to wear on the red carpet, especially not with biker boots. But she was here now and if she didn't want to bail on him, Clara would just have to grit her teeth and act like she wasn't at all bothered or thinking about all the gorgeous dresses in her wardrobe that would have been a lot more suitable for this event.

“Are you coming or what?” John's voice tore her from her thoughts and grumpily she followed after him.  
“I feel so underdressed,” she whispered harshly while he showed his invitation to one of the security guards.  
“Ah, don't worry,” John replied cheerfully, “They won't even notice. They're not here because of you. Or me. No one cares.”  
“Still. . . I like to dress up,” she admitted sheepishly.  
To her surprise John turned around and smiled at her. “If it makes you feel better, I think the dress looks fine.”  
“Thanks,” she mumbled without enthusiasm and before she could say anything else a reporter had approached them both, closely followed by a cameraman with the largest camera Clara had ever seen.  
“You're the author of _Deep Breath_ , right? How does it feel to see your book on the big screen?” the reporter asked him and John stopped dead in his tracks, looking more than a little dumbfounded.  
“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I haven't seen it yet. Guess it depends on how much they butchered my story.”  
The reporter did a good job at hiding her confusion, Clara noticed, and she quickly moved on to the next question.  
“And who have you brought with you tonight?”  
John glanced back at Clara before he turned towards the reporter again. “That's Clara,” he replied with a shrug.  
Apparently that seemed to be enough for the reporter as she excused herself and moved on to one of the actors that Clara thought seemed vaguely familiar, but John had already used to opportunity and headed inside. She decided that it was probably best to stay close to him in case he encountered any more people that were going to try to talk to him and she thought that maybe his loneliness hadn't been the only reason his publisher had wanted him to bring someone. Someone had to keep John from being too hostile in public.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and special thanks to Whiteasy for the lengthy and deep comment :) You brought up some things that will definitely come to play a role further into the story.

As if by a reflex Clara reached for the armrest, but found it already occupied by John, so instead of clawing at the furniture she dug her fingers into his lower arm and he immediately stiffened under her touch. John didn't like people touching him, but while it brought him pure discomfort with most people, Clara's touch was infinitely stranger and left his skin tingling.  
“What are you doing?” he whispered.  
“Shhh!” Clara shushed him immediately, still holding a tight grip on his arm. Her eyes were fixed on the screen. “Oh, please, tell me they're getting out of this.”  
“They're getting out of this,” he replied coldly and in a low voice while he tugged at his arm, trying to free it from Clara's grasp when she finally let go and turned around. Even in the darkness of the movie theatre he could see her glare at him.  
“Stop spoiling the movie!”  
“What?” John asked in confusion. Somehow the spot on his arm that she had touched still felt weird. “You asked.”  
“Doesn't mean I wanted an answer,” she argued and turned back around to face the screen.  
John rolled his eyes. “Okay, that really doesn't make any sense at all.”  
“Shhh!” Clara hissed again and John instantly fell silent. He looked at Clara's face that was barely illuminated by the moving pictures in front of them and he realized that she liked the movie. John felt a stab of pride that Clara was enjoying herself in his company, though why he couldn't quite say. He hadn't wanted to meet with her in the first place and now he was sitting here next to Clara and suddenly he felt almost glad of her company. The heart transplant had changed him, he had known that for a while now. It had left him with a void in his life that he couldn't explain or seem to fill. Was Clara right when she had said that he was feeling lonely? He had never felt the need for a friend, but maybe he needed one now? 

“I loved it,” Clara said as soon as they were back inside his car, “The movie was great. Thank you so much for taking me!”  
“Glad you liked it,” John commented as he started the engine and set the car into motion when he suddenly felt Clara's eyes on him, almost boring into him.  
“They didn't butcher your story, did they?”  
“No,” he replied with a sigh, “They stayed quite true to the book.”  
“Good,” Clara said determinedly and John could still feel her watching him. It was beginning to make him feel a little nervous. Why couldn't she just look at the road ahead? “I like how you always build up suspense. It's like you know exactly how to keep the reader spellbound.”  
For a brief moment John dared to look at her and found only admiration on Clara's face and somehow it made him sad because he knew that once she got to know him a little better, saw him for who he really was, he would never see that look on her face ever again. Unless. . . unless he was no longer the person he used to be before the surgery. Unless it had miraculously changed him into a better person.  
No, that was a silly thought. 

They talked about the film all the way home and Clara didn't even try to conceal her excitement about it when eventually their conversation came to a halt as a he parked the car in front of her apartment complex.  
“Thank you,” Clara granted him a warm smile, “I've had a lovely evening.”  
“Yeah,” he nodded, “I thought it would be worse.”  
She giggled in reply and suddenly Clara launched forward and before John could react, her arms were around his neck and her upper body was pressed against his own, making him tingle all over. He had no idea what to do, so he remained rigid and hoped that the strange feeling and the hug would pass quickly. But now that he was so close to her John noticed something else. The scent. That scent he had already noticed in her flat and associated with candles. It actually came from Clara and it smelled so familiar that for a moment he forgot why he hated hugging. His heart started hammering wildly against his chest in response to her touch and the lovely, familiar scent of her perfume.  
“Clara,” he swallowed hard, “I'm not really a hugging person.”  
She was still laughing when she pulled away and John found that his hands were shaking a little and his heart was still trying to jump out of his chest. Maybe it wasn't healthy for him to keep Clara around? He should ask his doctor about it.  
“I'll see you around?” Clara asked him, still smiling, and John couldn't help but smile back. He was already looking forward to it.  
“Yes,” he replied happily.

* * *

The kids had stormed out of the classroom the second the bell had rung, leaving Clara to pick up the rubbish they had left all over the place. She was about to curse ever having had the idea to become a teacher when suddenly there was a knock on the door and she turned around to see Danny, the maths teacher, standing in the doorway.  
“Oh, hi,” Clara greeted him as she straightened herself up, “Need help spelling a fancy word or what brings you here?”  
“Ha-ha,” Danny gave a mock laugh, smiling as he stepped closer and on his way he bent down to pick up a piece of bubble gum wrap. “I just thought you might need a hand.”  
“That's very nice,” Clara replied, “For a maths teacher.”  
They had been teasing each other over their choice of subject since Danny had started at the beginning of the school year. He was a nice guy and definitely a good teacher. Clara liked him, especially now that he was helping her clean up her pupils' mess.  
“Okay, I've got to be honest here,” he said after a moment, “I didn't actually come here to help you clean up the classroom.”  
“I never would've guessed. So, what's the fancy word you need help with?”  
Danny cleared his throat. “I was actually wondering if you want to go out for a cup of coffee some time.”

Clara immediately dropped the pencil she had been about to pick up and shot back up to look at him. Danny granted her a shy, sweet smile.  
“Danny,” Clara blurted out, “I, erm-”  
The smile faded from his lips when he realized that she was going to say no and for a moment he looked so heartbroken that Clara felt the urge to justify her decision.  
“I'm not really ready to date at the moment. You know about Jamie and you know it's only been five months. I'm not ready for something new,” she explained quickly, “I'm sorry.”  
“I know, Clara,” he replied, his voice nothing but kind, “And I only asked you out for coffee. It doesn't have to be a date. Friends go out for coffee, too, you know.”  
“Yeah, I know,” she breathed in reply.  
“I like you, Clara. You're funny and smart and you were nice to me from the first day on. I just want to spend some time with you outside the staff room.”  
For a moment Clara had no idea what to say.  
“It's just coffee, nothing more,” Danny repeated and he sounded sincere, “So, what do you say?”  
Clara granted him a soft smile. “Just coffee?”  
Danny nodded.  
With a sigh Clara found herself agreeing. “Alright. I guess a coffee can't hurt.”  
When Danny's face turned into a wide grin Clara couldn't help but think that maybe he still had a little more in mind than _just coffee_. And maybe it was time for Clara to at least try to get her life back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the sweet and lovely comments :) I'm gonna enjoy making you suffer with this story in the future :D

John sank down on the chair in front of Dr Jones with a sigh, praying that this appointment would be over soon. He had spent too much time in hospitals and he was very, very eager to leave.  
“Your results are perfect, as always,” Martha Jones smiled at him, “I'm guessing the diet and exercise are going well, too?”  
“Yep,” John confirmed with a nod, “Eating all my vegetables like you told me to.”  
“Good,” still the doctor continued to smile at him and John was growing increasingly wary of that look on her face. Something was up. “And you look good, too. Healthy. _Happy._ ”  
Dr Jones shot him an inquiring look, her eyebrows raised.  
“Well, I don't seem to be dying of heart failure anytime soon, so that's a reason to be happy,” he spat back at her, not really knowing where she was headed with her hints. But John was fairly certain he wouldn't like the turn the conversation was taking.  
“I saw that you've taken my advice and met with your donor's girlfriend.”  
And now it was confirmed that he really didn't like the direction in which their conversation was headed. What he did with Clara was nothing of Dr Jones' concern. It was confusing enough without a stranger butting in.  
“Have you tried saying no to Clara Oswald? You'll find that that's not so easy.”  
Martha Jones frowned at him in reply. “You didn't find the meeting helpful?”

John leaned back in his chair and sighed. Helpful? No. Meeting Clara hadn't answered any of his questions, in fact, it had only managed to confuse him more.  
“Mr Smith?”  
He looked up to see Dr Jones watching him curiously and he knew she expected an answer. “Honestly? I'm not sure. Yes, we're. . . we're friends. Sort of. We've been meeting for coffee and we went to the cinema together.”  
“Sounds like a friendship in my ears. Is something about that bothering you?”  
“Everything about it bothers me,” John spat back without even meaning to, “I'm not the friendship type. I don't know what Clara wants from me.”  
Martha Jones granted him a smile. “Do you like her?”  
John looked up and he knew that he would sound crazy, but if he couldn't tell his doctor, then who could he tell at all? “I think there's something wrong with my new heart,” he confessed and Dr Jones eyed him curiously, “It just acts up where Clara Oswald is concerned.”  
“It acts up? How?” she inquired.  
“It's like it wants to jump out of my chest and I just get the urge to run away as fast as I can because it only acts like that when Clara is around, but I can't run, I can't say no to her,” he explained, his voice almost desperate, “I think something went wrong during the surgery. I don't feel like myself anymore. It makes me do things that are against my nature. It makes me want to be nice. It's like it's not even a part of me. It's a fucking nuisance!”  
When a moment ago Dr Jones had looked a little concerned, she was now smiling again. “Do you want to know what I think?”  
He scoffed. “You're going to tell me anyway.”  
“I think your new heart is perfectly fine and I think you do like Miss Oswald and that being around her will do you good. People change after a transplant like that, it's normal, and it's hard to cope with it on your own. I think you're gonna need someone and I know that Miss Oswald needs someone, too, after her loss.”  
“Then why does it feel like I'm having a heart attack every time she is close? That can't be normal!”  
To his surprise Martha Jones chuckled in reply. “I think there's a perfectly ordinary explanation for that as well.”  
“Which is?” he growled.  
Dr Jones smiled at him. “You like her. And that new heart of yours is a lot cleverer than your brain.”

* * *

Clara sank down on her bed and tonight it felt especially empty. She looked over to the side Jamie had usually occupied and there was nothing there at all. Nothing but a big, black hole. It was as if the absence of him had a presence of its own and it still lingered five months later, wrapping Clara up in a cold, dark embrace that she couldn't escape. She missed him, especially in the mornings when she woke up to an empty bed or when she came home to an empty flat. Clara tried to conjure up his face or his laugh, but it only brought her more pain than comfort.  
A part of her was already tempted to reach for the phone and call John just to have someone to talk to when the door bell stopped her at the last moment. Slowly Clara climbed out of bed and dragged herself up to open the door.  
“Hey,” Amy greeted her cheerfully, “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”  
Without further warning Clara threw her arms around her best friend and hugged her tightly for a long moment.  
“Is everything okay?”  
Clara sighed when Amy hugged her in return. “Not really.”  
“Well, let's go inside, kill a bottle of wine and talk, yeah?”

Five minutes later Clara found herself sitting on her sofa, clutching a glass of red wine and staring into the comforting smile on Amy's face.  
“I went out with a colleague today,” Clara confessed and took a large sip.  
“On a _date_?”  
She shook her head. “We had agreed on going out for coffee, no strings attached and all. But it turned out to be a little more for him.”  
“Does he know about Jamie?” Amy inquired.  
Clara nodded in reply. “Yes, that's why I've told him I'm not ready to date. Danny is really sweet and nice and. . . and he said he's interested and that he doesn't mind waiting.”  
Her friend frowned at her. “Waiting?”  
“Waiting for me. Until I'm ready. Which I can't imagine I'll ever be,” Clara gave a soft shrug, “I just got home and I missed Jamie. I'm fine as long as I'm busy, but as soon as I'm alone I just miss him. He was always there and now he's not, but I think a part of me is still waiting for him to come back. I can't date someone new while I'm still hoping that it's all just a bad dream.”  
“But he's gone, Clara,” Amy whispered softly, “One day you will have to move on. Jamie wouldn't want you to mourn him forever.”  
“He's not gone,” Clara replied hesitantly, “Not entirely.”  
Suddenly her friend's face turned into a deep, dark frown. “You're not still thinking about that Smith guy, right? I thought that matter was done and dusted.”  
Clara took a deep breath, raising her head to look at Amy. “I may have forgotten to mention it, but we're still in contact.”  
“Clara!” Amy almost yelled at her, “That guy treated you like shit!”  
“He apologized,” she admitted sheepishly, “And he's not as bad as I thought in the beginning. I think I actually like his little quirks.”  
“Oh Clara,” her friend sighed heavily.  
“He took me to the cinema for the first screening of his movie and we went cycling together. That's how I really hit my head. He drove me to the hospital and he was quite caring. For his standards.”  
Still all she earned from Amy was the shaking of her head. “Even if he's nice, you and I both know that it's not gonna end well. You're just trying to get Jamie back, but that's not gonna work. John Smith is a different person.”  
“I know,” Clara replied, staring straight at her friend. “But I think I need him right now. And I think he needs me, too.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, you think John was adorable in the last chapter? You just wait ;) And thank you so much for the sweet comments!!!

“No,” John replied coldly while Clara was still dangling the ice skates in front of him.  
“Oh, come on,” she said excitedly and almost jumped up and down on his doorstep, though whether from excitement or because of the cold John couldn't say, “Please, it's gonna be so much fun!”  
“No,” he repeated and Clara pouted at him, “Clara, don't make me close this door in your face again.”  
“I went cycling with you and almost broke my neck,” she mumbled and finally lowered the skates.  
He scoffed. “And in return you want me to break my neck for real? I can't ice skate. I've never even tried.”  
“See,” her eyes lit up once more as she begged him, “You've never tried, so you don't even know what it's like. Maybe you'll love it and you never wanna do anything else for the rest of your life. Please. It's December and the weather is nice and you have to exercise on a daily basis.”  
His gaze darkened as he glared at her, but Clara gave him her best puppy dog eyes and for some unknown reason that always managed to melt his heart. “Damn you, Clara Oswald,” he growled.  
“Yes!” Clara laughed happily, “Now put your coat on and hurry!”

John knew he would regret the decision as soon as he stepped into the ice rink, but saying no to Clara was even harder than sticking to his diet or the daily exercise and yes, she had been right in saying that he needed a daily workout. Ice skating seemed as good as anything else, especially since he would be doing it with Clara.  
Ever since their agreement to be friends they had met twice a week, every Wednesday and Saturday, usually at a café, and the more he saw of her the harder John found it to deny that he liked Clara. She was one of the few people he had met in his life that he could have a decent conversation with.  
However once they came to a halt in front of Winter Wonderland John suddenly considered changing his mind back because if there was one thing he hated even more than people it was Christmas.  
“Don't even think about it,” Clara warned him as if reading his mind and John was having a hard time really taking her threats seriously. Clara was a good deal shorter than him, which didn't really bother John, but today she was wrapped in a thick coat, wearing gloves and a beanie with ears.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you look really ridiculous?” John couldn't help but laugh.  
Clara simply shrugged. “Better ridiculous than cold.”  
“Fine,” he sighed, “Let's get this over with and break my neck already.”  
“That's the spirit.”  
Even getting his feet into the pair of ice skates was enough exercise for two weeks, but eventually John managed and looked up to see Clara already drawing circles on the ice.  
“Come on before the ice melts!” she prompted him and with a sigh he rose to his feet. He was still on solid ground and yet his feet were already wobbly on the small ice skates.  
When John had already thought it couldn't get worse, he hadn't really expected the ice to be so slippery. He only managed to hold on to the bannister before he lost his balance.  
Clara laughed as she came to a halt next to him. “You're doing great,” she told him happily.  
“Wow,” he scoffed, “30 seconds on ice and I haven't fallen. Must be a new record.”  
“Give me your hands,” she prompted him, holding both her arms in his direction.  
“Certainly not,” he growled, “I'm not leaving this spot.”  
He heard Clara sigh. “I'll drag you for a bit until you get used to the ice. Trust me, it's easier than it seems.”  
But when she continued to stare at him, John realized that he hardly had a choice at all, so he slowly let go of the bannister and took Clara's hands instead. Even through their gloves he could feel her body heat and it was slightly irritating and at the same time welcome in the freezing cold. And before John knew what was happening Clara started to move and indeed dragged him along, away from the safety of the edge. He would surely regret this.  
His legs were still wobbly in these shoes and the smooth surface didn't help as he feet skidded left and right and somehow Clara held the balance for them both, smiling at him as they moved over the ice.  
“We're gonna fall,” he muttered, “We're gonna fall and break our necks.”  
“No, we won't,” she laughed and suddenly John's foot lost its hold and slipped and by instinct he tightened his grip around her hands. Still Clara held them both steady.  
“Do you want to try on your own?” she asked him.  
“If I say no, will you listen and drag me back?”  
Clara giggled and shook her hand. He finally let go.

To his surprise he didn't fall, but remained standing in the exact spot.  
“Okay, so far so good, I guess.”  
“You're doing great,” Clara encouraged him with a smile, “Now try moving forward.”  
John inhaled sharply and shifted his weight forward, but instead of moving he lost his balance as his feet slipped forward and he threatened to topple over backwards. Clara tried to grab him, but it was too late. He caught hold of her hand right before they both fell over and Clara landed right on top of him.  
She was close, too close, their bodies touching in all possible spots and John gasped for breath, not knowing what to do. His heart was racing and his back hurt from the fall and then there was Clara on top of him, laughing, and her lovely scent was everywhere, clouding his senses, and John didn't think he had ever been so confused in his entire life. His heart, his damned heart just wouldn't slow down as he looked at her and he couldn't even form a single coherent thought. It was almost as if he was drunk, only he wasn't, and there was no reason why all of a sudden he didn't want Clara to move at all when he became aware of just how good the tingling on his skin really felt where she touched him. Suddenly he thought that he wanted to pull her even closer.  
“John, are you okay?” Clara laughed, smiling down at him.  
His mouth felt utterly dry and he was still too baffled to form an answer. So instead of saying something John simply nodded, praying that Clara would remain exactly where she was, but he had no such luck. 

When Clara had scrambled back up the spell was lifted, but it still left his mind in turmoil.  
“Are you sure you're okay?” she asked him once more and he noticed the worry on her face while he struggled into a sitting position as well.  
“Yeah,” he replied, still feeling a little out of breath, “But your little ice skating experiment ends right here. Let's do something else.”  
Clara sighed, but eventually nodded in agreement. “Alright,” she said, “Let's start with a hot drink to warm up.”  
“I think that's the first decent idea you had today.”

Somehow they both managed to leave the ice rink without further incidents and John felt glad to finally have proper shoes and solid ground under his feet again while they made their way to one of the little wooden booths. He ordered a tea for himself while Clara chose a mug of mulled wine and some Christmas biscuits. John wrinkled his nose when the smell of the wine hit his nose as they continued their walk.  
“Ugh, that smells slightly disgusting, don't you think?”  
Clara shrugged next to him before she took a large sip of her drink. “But it warms you up.”  
Still John didn't seem convinced. “No, I'm not sad I had to give that up. Those biscuits on the other hand. . .”  
When she turned around Clara granted him an impish smile that made his heart skip a beat as she held the little plastic bag in his direction. “I'm allowing you one,” she told him. John grinned in reply and snagged one of the biscuits.  
“I think we should have a go at the big wheel,” he said with his mouth still full, “Look at this silly place from above and laugh at the people queuing for food.”  
“Sounds like a plan,” Clara agreed, giggling like a child and something about that sound made his stomach twitch. Strangely enough he liked the sound of her laugh and it was causing him to feel a little funny, a little nervous and suddenly he thought back to when their bodies had touched earlier and the strange feeling only grew.

The queue at the big wheel was surprisingly small and they sat down in a cabin on their own. Clara immediately settled across from him and took another sip from her cup before the big wheel set into motion and carried them upwards. Once more she let out a giggle and John held on tight to the railing. Martha Jones had said something to him about Clara, about his heart being cleverer than his brain and he was sure that that had something to do with the way he felt right now. But as he looked at Clara, so excited about the altitude, so pretty in the colourful lights around them, her nose red from the cold and her face flushed from the wine, John thought he didn't care what exactly it meant. Suddenly all he could think about was the incident on the ice and how lovely that tiny moment had been in which their bodies had touched. He also found himself wondering if he would be able to taste the spice of the mulled wine on her tongue if he kissed her. 

When John realized just what exactly he was thinking, he quickly brushed the thought aside, but he found that the height of the big wheel was doing nothing to calm the butterflies dancing in his stomach.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, I'm so glad you're enjoying the fluff :) Both John and Clara needed that, am I right?

“I'm so cold!” Clara complained loudly as they stepped inside his house and John watched Clara approach his sofa right before she plopped down on it and instantly reached for the blanket. “And your couch is so comfy.”  
John chuckled as he stepped closer, watching Clara wrap herself in the blanket up to her nose, but her eyes still betrayed the smile on her lips. “And I think you're a little tipsy.”  
“Maybe,” she giggled and lowered the blanket a little, “Which means you can't send me home now. Especially not while I'm still freezing.”  
“No, you should call a taxi,” he replied and took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa.  
“Oooooooor,” she grinned at him, “I could stay for a bit. We could talk. Or watch a movie.”  
John scoffed. A part of him wanted her to stay for a while longer and another part wondered why that was, but he guessed that as long as he couldn't think of a reason why she should leave immediately Clara might as well stay. “You're not tired of my rudeness yet?”  
Clara shook her head. “I don't think you're rude. Blunt, maybe,” she laughed, “I'm starting to find that quirk endearing.”  
John raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Definitely not buying you mulled wine again. Not if it makes you use words like _endearing_ to describe me.”  
She smiled at him in reply and for a moment John felt the urge to move a little closer to her, but he fought it as best as he could. “I don't know why you stick around,” he sighed.  
“Like I said,” she replied, “I think you need a friend. And I think so do I. I've had a lot of fun today and, don't lie to me, so did you.”  
“Yeah,” he breathed, “Apart from the fall and the aching back. Why do you need a friend though? You must have loads.”  
The smile faded from Clara's face, but her eyes remained fixed on him. “When I go out with with friends I always think of Jamie and how he would have been there, too. We used to hang out in groups or he'd pick me up from a night out with Amy. It's all connected and it hurts. But with you there's just. . . you.”  
Slowly John nodded.  
“Okay,” he said after a moment, “What movie would you like to watch?”  
With a sigh Clara reached for one of the cushions to stuff under her head and lay down flat on the sofa. “Just pick your favourite.”  
John threw her a questioning glance even though she couldn't see it. “Are you sure you don't want to call a taxi? You seem tired.”  
“No,” she replied, “It's just the wine. The movie will wake me up.”  
“Alright,” John said with a shrug and rose from the sofa.

He did as Clara had suggested and put a copy of _The Man Who Fell To Earth_ into the player before he sat back down to watch the movie. After a few comments about David Bowie's looks Clara fell silent, yet John found it hard to really focus on the film with her lying next to him. He went over the evening again and again, trying to figure her out, trying to figure out what he was thinking about her, but without coming to a conclusion. Whatever it was, it was something new entirely, something that had never happened to him before. Then the silence between them was beginning to unnerve him.  
“Clara?” he asked quietly, but there was no reply, so he tried it once more, louder, “Clara?”  
When again she said nothing John leaned forward and saw that her eyes were closed. She was asleep.  
Since she had earlier described his rudeness as endearing the reasonable decision would be to wake her and call her a taxi to take her home, but somehow John couldn't bring himself to do it. There was something sweet about the way she looked in her sleep.  
With a sigh John got up from the sofa, switched off the telly and retrieved an extra duvet that he kept in his bedroom before he covered Clara with it.  
“I seriously don't know why I'm doing this,” he muttered under his breath, “Cause it's your own fault for falling asleep here, so you should suffer the consequences and be cold all night.”  
Clara moved and made a small sound of content, but didn't wake up.  
“Don't look so happy,” he growled in a low voice, “You have no reason to. Tomorrow morning I will wake you up very early and in the loudest way possible.”  
A soft smile appeared on her lips and once again John wondered what it would be like to kiss those beautiful lips, to map out their shape with his tongue and get just a small taste of it.  
What a silly thought. He didn't even like hugging. And yet the idea stirred something inside of him.

John tried to ban the thought about the woman sleeping on his sofa from his mind and instead went to brush his teeth. He put on his pyjamas and closed the bedroom door behind him, locking Clara out for good.  
Yet while he was lying in bed he found that the thoughts about her were returning, stronger than ever. He picture Clara on the big wheel, laughing, stuffing her mouth full with Christmas biscuits while he cursed his diet, he pictured her big eyes, begging him to go ice skating with her and he pictured the fall and Clara landing right on top of him. The memory of it was enough to make his skin tingle even now.  
Angry with himself and his own thoughts John threw the duvet aside and stormed back into the living room. He should wake Clara and tell her to leave right now. Her mere presence in his house was confusing him and making it impossible for him to find rest. And yet he stopped right next to the couch, staring down at her, unable to do anything. He had feelings for her. Feelings of some sort, at least. Maybe romantic. Maybe just the sort of feelings any normal man might get when a young and pretty woman like Clara was sleeping on his sofa.  
That stupid, new heart was to blame, John was sure of it. It had pulled him towards Clara right from the start. This heart that had loved her once before and that just couldn't seem to let go.  
“Tough luck,” John muttered to his heart, “This isn't gonna work out the way you want it to.”  
He and Clara – the thought alone was ridiculous. He was an old man and Clara was light years away from leaving her dead lover behind. He needed to bury that idea right away.

So John did the only reasonable thing he could think of. He passed his bedroom on his way to his office, sat down and switched on his laptop. He couldn't say how long it took him to get started, but eventually he began typing away on the keyboard, writing down every little detail about Clara that was confusing him, hoping that it might clear his head.

* * *

When Clara woke up she felt surprisingly well rested. She tried to recall her dream, but found that she couldn't remember dreaming about Jamie at all last night. If she really hadn't dreamed about him, maybe there was still hope she might stop missing him one day. Then she opened her eyes and realized that she wasn't in her bed.  
“Breakfast,” John mumbled in passing as he made his way past the sofa and in the direction of the kitchen and Clara needed a moment to gather her thoughts.  
She had come to his house to warm up after their little tour through Winter Wonderland and Clara had fallen asleep on his sofa. And there was an extra blanket covering her that hadn't been there the evening before and the realisation made Clara smile. Maybe John wasn't as rude and inconsiderate as he always pretended to be. Either that or she was a good influence.  
With a smile on her face Clara entered the kitchen and found John in front of the largest breakfast selection she had ever seen outside of a hotel buffet.  
“What is all that?” she asked in amazement while John handed her a glass of what seemed like freshly made orange juice.  
“Breakfast,” he replied matter-of-factly and sank down on one of the kitchen chairs.  
“That's whole-wheat bread. And low-fat cheese. And fresh fruits. This is the healthiest breakfast I've ever seen in my entire life!”  
John stared at her in reply, seeming a little baffled at her observation. “I have to watch my diet,” he said simply.  
Clara took a seat at the opposite side of the table. “And you got me an extra blanket last night.”  
He cleared his throat as he reached for a slice of bread and started cutting it in half. “Well, I remember you complained about being cold. I just wanted you to shut up about it.”  
She knew that that wasn't the reason John had gotten her an extra blanket, but she decided not to press the matter. He cared for her, that was all she really needed to know and it felt good somehow. She really was a good influence and she might make a decent person out of him yet.  
“Are you going to spend Christmas with your family?” Clara asked simply to make conversation while she stuffed a strawberry into her mouth.  
“I don't have family,” he replied, staring down at his plate, “And I'm not really the Christmas type.”  
Suddenly Clara was possessed by an idea and she wasn't quite sure how her family would react if he said yes, but that was a worry for another day. She simply had to ask him. “Would you like to come to Christmas dinner at my place?” she asked him, her voice suddenly very shy and insecure, “It's nothing big. Just my family. They usually just eat and leave, but-”  
“I'm not really the family dinner type.”  
“Well, it's not _your_ family,” Clara prompted him and finally John looked at her. She could see that he was torn, that a part of him would probably like to say yes, but something held him back.  
He sighed. “I'm really not good with people. Remember how it was when we first met? That's what I'm like with people I don't know.”  
“You'll get along perfectly with my stepmum then,” she giggled.  
“Clara-”  
“Please,” she interrupted John before he could say no again, giving him her best smile, “Think about it. At least consider it. It's nothing fancy, really. Just a dead turkey, some small talk and after dinner they're off.”  
“Fine, I'll think about it,” John turned his gaze towards his food again, “But the answer will probably still be no.”  
Clara smiled to herself, sure that the three weeks left until Christmas were more than enough to convince him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments, guys :) And now I believe we've had enough of the fluff for a bit. Bring on some drama!

Clara had just climbed the steps to her apartment when she found a surprise sitting on her doorstep. Amy, looking a little ruffled and appearing to still be in yesterday's clothes.  
“Oh Clara, thank God!” her friend rose to her feet when she saw her and Clara couldn't help but laugh at her dishevelled figure.  
“Wow, you look like you had fun last night,” she joked as she pulled the keys out of her purse and turned them around in the lock to let them both into her flat.  
“And so do you,” Amy suddenly eyed her with suspicion, “I though you'd just gone out to get coffee or something, not ice skates.”  
She tapped the skates with her foot once Clara had discarded them on the floor.  
“I went to Winter Wonderland with John yesterday and fell asleep on his couch. What's your excuse?” Clara asked with a shrug.  
“I had sex with Rory,” Amy confessed.  
“On your second date?” With a sigh Clara left her coat on the rack and headed into the kitchen. “I believe this calls for coffee.”

She prepared a mug for them both before they settled on her sofa and Amy started telling her in detail about how her second date had gone – as if Clara hadn't been able to judge from her friend's state.  
“It was really awkward,” Amy giggled, “ _He_ is so awkward.”  
Clara frowned in reply. “Good awkward or bad awkward?”  
“ _Rory_ awkward,” her friend said, “No, he's sweet. Cute. But awkward. We're gonna see each other again on Saturday and hopefully we'll be able to figure out the bedroom thing.”  
“Keeping my fingers crossed for that,” Clara said and took a sip from her coffee.  
Suddenly she felt Amy's eyes on her and she knew that something was about to follow, something Clara might or might not like. She lowered her mug and braced herself for the worst.  
“We want it to be a rather casual date. Just going to the pub. You could come,” Amy suggested and suddenly Clara couldn't help but notice the mischievous smirk on her face, “Maybe you could bring Danny.”  
Clara opened her mouth in protest. Not only was she uncertain that going out with Danny again would be such a good idea, but Saturday was also the day she usually met with John. “I don't think that's a really good idea. Besides, I've sort of got plans already,” she explained, granting Amy an apologetic smile.  
“Oh, cancel on John. He'll survive a Saturday without you.”  
Still Clara wasn't convinced. “Danny and I have only been out for coffee once,” she argued even though she knew it was no good.  
Her friend raised her eyebrows at her and Clara realized that there was no getting out of this one. “Did you enjoy it?”  
Yes, she had and Clara knew it was true. Danny was sweet, but he wanted more than just her friendship and to her it was still dangerous territory. Yet Clara knew that one day she would have to take that step and six months seemed like a reasonable time to at least give it a shot. Besides, it was Danny and she liked him and he had promised to wait until she felt ready. It seemed as if nothing could really go wrong.  
“Fine,” Clara heard herself say, “I'll come. And I'll ask Danny.”

* * *

John had decided to take advantage of the nice weather and walk to the café close to Coal Hill school where he would meet with Clara for their usual Wednesday coffee. Yet when he was just a few streets away his phone rang in his pocket and he pulled it out to see that Missy was calling, no doubt to hear whether he was already working on a new book.  
“You naughty boy,” Missy chuckled on the other end of the line and John wasn't even sure he wanted to know what the hell she was aiming at, “You know I've been busy lately, but I've finally had a chance to look at the reviews of your movie screening.”  
“So what?” John spat, “It went well. The movie was good.”  
“And I'm assuming so was your company?”  
Ah, so that was what she was aiming at and John realized that Missy couldn't be more wrong about her assumption.  
“I'm glad to see you pick up your old habits again. I can only hope that means you'll soon get back into writing as well.”  
“Clara is not a call girl!” John replied instantly, maybe a little too harshly, but he knew he couldn't blame Missy for assuming she was. Before his heart had taken a turn for the worse he had taken a high class call girl to most public events – and he had taken the girl home afterwards. But that had been the old him. “She's a friend.”  
“And what about the new book?” Missy asked.  
John took a deep breath. He had been writing these past few days ever since the night Clara had slept at his place, but he wasn't willing to share any of that just yet. Mainly because he still felt too confused about his own feelings to properly put them into words. John wasn't even sure where he was going with this story.  
“I'm writing,” he replied in a low voice, “But it's gonna take a while.”  
“That's fine,” his publisher replied, “What matters is that you're writing and that a new book is on the horizon. I was starting to get worried.”  
When John turned around a corner he could already spot Clara sitting in their usual window seat of the café. “Listen, Missy, I've got to go. You'll get your book. But I need time,” he said hurriedly and after Missy had said her goodbye as well he hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket. 

The closer he came to the café the faster his heart started beating. John was so eager to see Clara again, to be close to her, hear her laugh and he couldn't even remember the last time he had felt like that about someone. It must have been in the early days of his marriage, maybe not even then. And certainly not since.  
He entered through the door and Clara spotted him instantly and raised her hand to wave at him. At her smile his heart seemed to skip a beat.  
“Did you have a nice day at school?” John asked as he sank down on his chair.  
The smile on Clara's face widened. “Nice to see you're improving your social skills.”  
“Don't look so smug,” he growled in reply, but couldn't help but smile in return when the waiter interrupted them and John decided to order a cup of tea.  
“School was alright,” Clara said after the waiter had left them, “Except for Courtney. She's a nuisance. Constantly disrupts the class.”  
John huffed. “I wish I could give you advice, but I've made an effort to stay clear of children and so far the effort has paid off.”  
Clara chucked in reply. “Some days I wish I could do the same,” she said, but suddenly her features grew a little more serious. “I'm afraid I can't make it on Saturday. My friend Amy made plans and she wants me to come to the pub with her and Rory.”  
He needed a moment to take in just what Clara had told him and John felt a surge of disappointment. Maybe a part of him had hoped it would be like the previous Saturday. “Well, you're young, so. . . you should be going out with your friends on a Saturday night,” he paused and raised his eyebrows, “But aren't you gonna feel a bit like a third wheel?”  
Clara granted him a soft smile. “Amy insisted that I bring Danny.”  
“Danny?” That was the first time John heard that name.  
“Yeah,” Clara exhaled sharply, “I've sort of been out on a date with him, but right now we're just friends. I'm not sure I'm ready for the rest. And you're not mad that I can't make it on Saturday?”  
John felt something, but he wasn't sure whether he was actually mad at Clara. No, he didn't think so. And yet something about Clara going to the pub next Saturday was bugging him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  
“No,” John found himself saying even though he didn't like the idea of it at all, “Like I said. You should do something with your friends.”  
He was fine with it. Clara had said she wasn't ready to date, so whoever this guy was, he didn't stand a chance. There was nothing to worry about. Unless Danny turned into more than just a friend, in which case John was anything but fine with it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments :D Now, let's see what jealous John might get up to . . .

Clara felt hungry and the pint that was pushed in her face didn't really look like it could do much about that. With a sigh she took a sip.  
“You look a bit distracted today. Is everything alright?” Danny suddenly asked from the seat next to her and she turned around to look at him.  
Clara shook her head. “No, I'm fine. Just a little hungry,” she admitted.  
Danny glanced at the menu in front of them, obviously realizing what Clara had already realized half an hour ago – that this pub sold nothing edible except for a few snacks.  
“Maybe we can go elsewhere later tonight,” he granted her a smile and suddenly she felt his hand on top of hers. It was a sweet, soothing gesture. She had missed that. And yet something about it didn't feel quite right. It wasn't the way Jamie had always held her hand.  
Clara let her gaze wander to the other side of the table and found that Amy and Rory were still snogging, just like they had been five minutes ago, and the sight was beginning to bug her a lot. Why on earth had Amy asked her here? To set her up with Danny? Just so she could watch her friend have fun?  
“We could go elsewhere now if you like,” Danny suddenly leaned closer to her, almost whispering into her ear.  
“You're not going anywhere,” Amy suddenly added to the conversation and then turned her attention towards Danny, “So, tell us something about yourself, Danny.”

With a sigh Clara leaned back when Danny started to talk and then felt the phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out to see who the message was from and immediately spotted John's name.

_**John:**  
Having fun at the pub?_

Clara smiled to herself, the idea that John was thinking about her even now making her incredibly happy for some reason and she instantly started to type a reply.

_**Clara:**  
Not really. Hungry. There's no food. Amy and Rory have probably eaten glue and now their lips won't separate. What are you up to?_

She left the phone on the table so she would be able to see in case John replied and turned her attention back to the story Danny was telling and realized that she was involved and would probably be asked to contribute at any moment.  
“I would have walked around with the sign on my back all day if Clara hadn't pointed it out to me. Do you remember who the sign was from?”  
“Uhm, Courtney Woods,” Clara replied after a moment of hesitation. She couldn't remember the incident at all, but blaming a prank on Courtney seemed like a safe bet.  
Her phone buzzed next to her and Clara checked her messages to see that John had already replied to her.

_**John:**  
I'm making dinner. Lemon and pepper fish with some roasted veggies. It smells really good._

Clara almost groaned at the pure thought of a home cooked meal, hungry as she was. Why did Amy have to choose this damn pub that sold nothing but crisps?

_**Clara:**  
That sounds so good! And I'm sitting here, starving. Are you teasing me on purpose?_

“Clara, put that damn phone away,” Amy scolded her sternly, “You can talk to us instead. Or Danny if we're too boring for you.”  
Clara turned around and granted Danny a soft smile. Amy was right, she should be a little nicer to him, even though, given the choice, she would probably be with John right now, eating lemon and pepper fish. Once more Amy and Rory leaned closer to each other and started kissing. Maybe she should give it a go as well? After all, Clara had come here because she had thought it was time to move on with her life.  
“Danny,” she inhaled sharply, “Would you kiss me?”  
“ _What?_ ” The look on his face was one of pure shock.  
“I mean it,” Clara said, her voice wavering a little as she spoke, “I haven't kissed another person in six months and I miss it. I don't know if I'm ready for something new, but I won't find out unless I try. You said you were interested, so prove it.”  
To her surprise Danny started laughing. “Alright, if that's what you want.”  
Clara used the moment Amy and Rory were distracted to scoot a little closer to Danny. The way he looked at her, that smile and that slightly amused expression in her eyes almost putting her off the idea and making her pull away, so Clara simply closed her eyes and leaned closer.  
Their lips touched and Clara had expected to feel overcome by either guilt or that warm, tingling feeling she had always gotten when Jamie had kissed her, but that never happened. She simply felt nothing at all, except the entirely physical sensation of Danny's lips on her own. Now more confused than ever Clara pulled away.  
“So?” Danny raised his eyebrows, still smiling, “Verdict?”  
Clara could do nothing but stare at him. She had no idea what to say, what to tell him, except that a relationship with him wouldn't happen any time soon. Why didn't she feel anything? Clara could have handled the guilt or the butterflies, anything but indifference.  
“I'm gonna make a quick trip to the loo,” Amy suddenly announced, “Guys, will you get us a refill?”  
Rory nodded and Danny also agreed when he rose from his seat and made his way towards the bar. Clara looked at him, still trying to determine what had just happened when her phone buzzed once more.

_**John:**  
There's enough for two. Wanna join me?_

Clara glanced from her phone to Danny and back to her phone and then she made a decision. She used the moment no one was looking to grab her jacket and purse and before anyone could even notice she was out of the pub.

 

John looked a little surprised when he opened the door, but stepped aside and let her in regardless. Clara was so glad to be out of the pub, away from the confusion she had felt over kissing Danny and John's house seemed like the perfect safe haven an this moment. She wasn't even sure why she felt so drawn to him and by now she refused to believe that it was only because of Jamie's heart.  
“You said you had food,” Clara said once she had discarded her coat on one of the kitchen chairs. She eyed the contents of the frying pan and to her relief she saw that the fish was almost done.  
“What kind of pub doesn't serve food?” John asked her as he went on to retrieve two plates from the cupboard.  
Clara shrugged. “The kind Amy drags you to. I don't know. Feed me!”  
“Bossy,” John growled, but a few seconds later his lips curled into a smile and Clara knew that he was glad she had come to his house tonight.

Once the fish was done they both settled on the sofa in the living room and ate their dinner and Clara felt so much better now that her stomach was being filled. John told her that he was writing again, but refused to go into detail when she asked, and in return Clara shared the recent events with him.  
“And then I asked Danny to kiss me because I was really fed up watching Amy and Rory snog in front of my nose,” she said and suddenly John's head shot up, staring at her. She couldn't quite place the emotion she saw on his face.  
Clara sighed. “I had expected to feel guilty, or maybe butterflies or _anything_ , but instead I just felt nothing at all. It was like shaking someone's hand. Not like a kiss.”  
John's features softened a little, but he still didn't say a word. Clara looked at him intently as if trying to read a solution from his face.  
“Is that what it's gonna be like from now on?” she asked him, “Have I become so numb with grief that even a kiss doesn't manage to rouse anything in me? You've been through this with your wife. Tell me!”  
John cleared his throat and quickly averted his eyes. “Maybe Danny was the wrong person to kiss.”  
Clara inhaled sharply. “But Danny is sweet. I like Danny.”  
“Listen,” John's voice suddenly turned a little more harsh as he busied himself with stacking their dirty dishes on the coffee table, “Maybe it's just too early for you. Maybe Danny isn't your type. Maybe the next person you kiss will make you feel all the things you want to feel. Maybe you'll feel so guilty you'll bury the idea for the next six months. I really don't know much about that, Clara, I'm not an expert.”  
For a moment she eyed him curiously, thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe Danny really had been the wrong person to try it with but it still bugged her that the kiss hadn't managed to provoke any kind of feeling inside her. Maybe she really should try it with someone else. Maybe. . .  
“John, have you thought about my suggestion?” she asked after a moment to keep her mind from going where she didn't want her mind to go.  
He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. “What suggestion?”  
“Christmas dinner,” Clara replied with a smile, “I hate the thought of you being alone over the holidays.”  
He let out a long groan. “I really don't do Christmas. I hate tinsel and Christmas music and everyone being so goddamn cheerful. It's nauseating.”  
“Please,” she begged him, giving him her very best puppy dog eyes, “I'll even leave out the tinsel.”  
Again he groaned. “You will regret ever having invited me, you know that, right?”  
A huge smile spread over her face when she giggled. “I don't care. I'd love for you to come.”  
“Fine,” he agreed, “But no presents on either side, is that clear? I don't have a clue what to get you and I don't want anything either.”  
“Crystal clear,” Clara still smiled and that idea invaded her mind again, that silly idea that she just couldn't push aside. Maybe John should never have mentioned it in the first place. “One more thing.”  
“Yes?” he eyed her expectantly.  
Clara swallowed hard, her heart suddenly beating a little bit faster than before. She was nervous. She hadn't been nervous asking Danny the same question earlier. “Would you kiss me?” she asked, “Just as an experiment?”  
John opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Maybe he wanted to protest and was just too baffled to say anything, but nevertheless Clara scooted a little bit closer.  
“Clara-” he breathed, his voice almost inaudible, “Are you s-sure t-that's a good idea?”  
She shrugged. “It's just an experiment,” she reasoned even though the thought of it made her hands tremble a little.  
John never protested when she came to sit a little closer and soon they were right in front of each other, Clara nervous, and John looking dead scared. What was she thinking? He hadn't even wanted to hug her. But she wanted to see what it would be like, just as an experiment. For a moment they did nothing but look at each other.  
“Well, this is a little awkward,” she laughed a little nervously when she couldn't bare to meet his gaze any longer.  
“We don't have to-” John started to say, but Clara interrupted him by leaning forward and pressing their lips together.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so many comment writers that have come crawling out of their hiding holes :) Thank you all so, so much! I'm glad you've enjoyed the last chapter (and I hope you continue to enjoy it) :)

For a brief moment John thought his new heart might burst when Clara pressed her mouth on his own. He was glad that she had her eyes closed because at first John had no idea what to do, so he flapped his hands around like an idiot before he decided to place them on her cheeks, pulling her head just a little closer. He had thought about kissing her, but he hadn't imagined it would be quite like this. Clara's lips were so soft, so delicious when she parted them for him and for a moment John wanted nothing more but to drown in her, wishing it would never end. It was as if they were made for each other, like she expected his every move when her tongue swept over his own and John realized it then and there. The butterflies in his stomach. The way his heart was beating so fast. The trembling hands and the feeling of pure joy. He was in love with her. He couldn't deny it any longer.  
Then suddenly Clara pulled away, tearing him out of his dream. She looked so beautiful and yet so sad and John knew it was time to bury all of his hope for this to ever happen again. She was far from ready. John may have succeeded in luring her away from Danny with the promise of food, but that was all he was ever going to get.

He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”  
Clara swallowed hard and it took her a moment to answer. “Guilty,” she admitted and finally looked at him, “You were right. I'm feeling guilty.”  
Without thinking John reached out and took her hands in his own, unable to remember the last time he had held someone's hand, but he didn't mind with Clara, not anymore.  
“I think I should go. It's late,” she said quietly.  
“You can stay on the couch if you don't feel like going all the way back to your flat,” John suggested, desperately hoping that she would accept. He didn't want her to leave, not now, not like this.  
Clara shook her head, but smiled softly. “No, I think I need to be alone for a bit. Thank you. For everything.”  
Before John could react Clara launched forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she probably could and despite his initial surprise he placed his hands on her back in a comforting gesture. Yes, he did like her hugs now. Everything about Clara just felt so warm, so comfortable, he never wanted to let go. If only he could hold her forever.  
“I'm so glad I've met you,” she whispered, “You're a really good friend.”  
John's heart sank as he heard her say these words. _Friend._ That was all he would ever be to her. Even if it wasn't for her dead boyfriend, the chances of something else ever happening were slim.  
“I'm glad I've met you, too,” John replied weakly.

Once Clara had left his house and he was done cleaning up the pots and dishes for his kind of improvised meal John sat down in front of his laptop and stared at the pages he had already written. Then he raised his hands to the keyboard.

_The doctors had warned me that my life would change after the heart transplant. They had warned me about my diet, they had warned me about my exercise plans and they had warned me about all the illnesses I might catch with my weakened immune system. What they had failed to mention, however, was the fact that I would be living with a strange man's heart, because I don't think anyone can really fathom what it means to live with this foreign object beating inside your chest as a constant reminder of how fragile and complex the human body really is. I don't think I understood it either, not at first. Until the day Clara Oswald forced her way into my life._

* * *

After hours of tossing and turning around in her bed Clara gave up trying to fall asleep and moved to the living room where she had hoped the telly would provide her with a good enough distraction. And yet it wasn't enough to really mute her thoughts. She had felt nothing kissing Danny, nothing at all. So she had expected the kiss with John to feel the same – and it hadn't. Clara had enjoyed it a little too much, the feeling of his lips on her own, the way he had held her head in his hands, so gentle and loving, so unlike what she had expected of him. Her hands had trembled nervously and way her heart had leapt with joy had told her that she had thoroughly enjoyed it. And that was when the guilt had kicked in. The idea that she might be ready to move on from Jamie scared her senseless, the idea of leaving his memory behind. How could she even think about it when she had loved him so much?

Eventually the telly did manage to lull her to sleep, but it was a restless one, filled with dreams about Jamie and Danny and John and then Clara was torn out of it by the ringing of her phone.  
“ _Where the hell were you last night?!_ ”  
“Amy?” Clara croaked and scrambled into a sitting position, her neck hurting after a night on the sofa.  
“I've left you several messages!”  
Yes, she had and Clara had ignored them all, vowing to apologize the next morning. Which was now. She cleared her throat.  
“I'm sorry,” she replied sincerely, “I wasn't really in the mood for a night at the pub and I was hungry, so I left. Sorry, I should've said something.”  
“Don't apologize to me, apologize to Danny,” Amy said harshly, “The poor guy had no idea what was going on. You kissed him and then you just left him standing there!”  
Clara inhaled sharply. “I know, I know, that wasn't nice,” she admitted in defeat, “I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.”  
“Well, call him and say you're sorry, even if you're not into him. He spent the rest of the night brooding and wondering what he had done wrong,” Amy told her.  
“Nothing,” she replied in a low voice, “He's done nothing wrong. He's just not Jamie.”  
“Clara, no man is Jamie, no one could ever be,” her friend reminded her in a serious tone, “No one is gonna love you like he did, but maybe one day someone will come along and he will do an even better job at loving you. Let him go now. For your own sake.”  
Clara sighed. “I don't think I can.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments :) Ah, that was sweet and fluffy, wasn't it? How about some trouble now?

Clara jumped up when the doorbell rang and quickly went to open the door to be greeted by the sight of John. He held up a bright red stocking with her name on it.  
“Merry Christmas, I suppose,” he said.  
“I thought we said no presents,” Clara complained and when John lowered the stocking, she got the first, good look at him. His chin was covered in stubble that couldn't quite yet be called a beard, but it gave him a sharp, handsome look.  
“That's not a present,” John protested, “It's just biscuits for after dinner.”  
Clara giggled. “They're wrapped in a stocking with my name on it.”  
John frowned at her in reply when Clara finally took the stocking from him. “The biscuits are food and the stocking is the equivalent of a transport box. Do we really have to argue about this now?”  
“No,” she smiled at him, “You're right. It's food.”  
Clara stepped closer and hugged him to finally say hello properly. “I'm glad you've decided to come.”  
John reluctantly closed his arms around her, but then held her tight, a good sign, Clara thought. He was probably starting to overcome his aversion for hugs. “How can I say no to a free meal that I don't have to cook myself.”  
He chuckled and Clara gave him a soft nudge while she untangled herself from the hug. She knew he wasn't as grumpy about Christmas as he pretended to be, and the stocking filled with biscuits was _definitely_ a gift. “Well, you're gonna pay for that by being in the company of my family. Come in!”

Clara led him into the kitchen and snagged a biscuit out of the stocking, quickly putting it in her mouth. “You're early, so the turkey will still need a bit of oven time. I hope I got it right this year.”  
John stepped closer and opened the oven lid, taking a peek inside. “Looks good to me.”  
“Phew, what a relief,” she said as she poured herself a glass of wine and took a large sip before she remembered something, “Oh, there's non-alcoholic beer in the fridge if you want some. I know you can't drink with your meds and all.”  
“Thanks. I'll save that for later,” he replied and suddenly Clara felt his gaze on him as if he was trying to determine something.  
“What?”  
“You look sad,” John noted, nodding towards her.  
“I don't,” she protested.  
“Yes, you do. What's wrong?”  
With a sigh Clara took another sip and put her glass down. She had tried not to think about it all day, failing more and more as time went on, and the closer they came to dinner time the more the truth was beginning to dawn on her. “It's my first Christmas without Jamie,” she admitted weakly, “And my family is coming over, including Linda. And I'm still stressing over the turkey. I've ruined it last year, don't want that to happen again.”  
“Like I said,” John granted her a smile, “The turkey looks fine.”  
“Can you even eat that?” Clara suddenly realized in shock. She should have made something else, something John could eat with his diet, but she hadn't even considered it until now. “If you want to I can make you something else, I know you're not allowed so many calories and this is really not a healthy turkey. Damn, I should have thought of that earlier.”  
“Clara,” John interrupted her and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, his hands on both her upper arms, “Relax. I can eat the turkey, I'm looking forward to eating the turkey. Now calm down.”  
Clara let her head fall against his chest with a groan. “An evening with Linda is so exhausting. I've always had Jamie supporting me, drawing her scorn on him. It's gonna be terrible.”  
Then suddenly Clara stood back up straight, staring at John in horror when she realized something else she hadn't considered. “I forgot to get Linda a Christmas present! Oh God, how could I have forgotten that? She is going to hate me until all eternity and seriously, can this day get any worse?!”  
Clara took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, noticing how the heat rose to her head, making her feel a little faint. This was going to be the worst Christmas ever.  
“Relax,” John told her again and his grip on her arm tore her out of her nightmare for a moment, “When is your family coming over?”  
She sighed. “Five-ish.”  
“Okay,” he said in a calming manner and handed her the wine glass, “Sit, have a sip, calm down and then we'll go down to the petrol station around the corner and get her a book or a CD. We've got over an hour left.”  
“But the turkey-”  
“Will also need another hour,” John reasoned, his voice sharp, “Seriously, stop this stressing about. I don't know if my heart can take that.”  
Clara frowned at him in reply. “Now _you're_ being bossy,” she said, but decided to heed his advice and emptied the glass in one go before she put it back down on the table, “Alright. Let's go.”  
“You know, when I said sip, I didn't mean knock it back,” he cleared his throat.  
Clara gave him a shrug in reply. “My turn to be bossy. Come on, we've got no time to lose!”

* * *

“How about this one?” Clara pointed at one of the books, but John shook his head.  
“Much too enjoyable,” he said and took a different one from the small shelf, “This one will bore her to death. It's also got a character named Linda that's gonna get brutally murdered in chapter 6.”  
She frowned at him. “You're taking the piss out of me.”  
“I know the author,” John answered dryly, “Terrible dancer.”  
Clara giggled in reply. “You have to tell me all about that when we get home,” she said and spun around, only to see the one person on earth she hadn't expected and again she was reminded of one other thing she had forgotten, “Danny!”  
“Clara,” his voice was ice cold when he spoke and he had every reason so be mad at her. They hadn't spoken since the night she had left him sitting at the pub to be with John, who was standing right behind her. She had vowed to call him, but never had. And since Christmas holidays had already started at school, she hadn't met him at work to apologize either.  
“I see you are alive and you can still talk,” he said after a moment, his forehead wrinkled in anger or hurt pride or both.  
“I'm sorry,” Clara replied meekly and bit down on her lip, “I meant to call, but I've had a lot on my plate this last week. See, I've even forgotten to buy my stepmum a Christmas present.”  
She nodded towards the book in John's hand and noticed that Danny was scanning the other man from head to toe.  
“So your dad has to come to the rescue, I see.”  
“Do I look like her dad to you?” John suddenly spat and when Clara turned around to look at him, he appeared to have stretched a little to make himself taller. For some reason he looked angry, too, and Clara had no idea what the hell was going on.  
“You do, actually,” Danny replied and looked at Clara again, “Clara, who is he if he's not your dad?”  
“Uhm,” she inhaled sharply, trying to rack her brain for a good answer, “That's a very long story actually.”  
“I've got time,” he shrugged.  
John leaned forward just a little so Clara could hear him more clearly. “We don't. We've got a turkey in the oven, remember?”  
“Okay, scrap that,” Danny sighed, “I just want to know why you left me sitting at that pub the other night and never even bothered to call. I get that you said you needed time, but you can't kiss me and then just run off without saying a word. I was worried about you.”  
“You just didn't take good enough care of her,” John replied in her place, sounding angry again, “She was nearly starved when she came to my house afterwards.”  
“John!” Clara scolded him. She had no idea what was going on or why he was being so hostile towards Danny, but she couldn't just let that pass. And above all she hadn't exactly wanted Danny to know how the rest of her evening had gone down.  
“Or maybe you're just a lousy kisser,” John said with a shrug.  
“Enough!” Clara shouted at him, but apparently Danny had also had enough.  
“Okay, I'm out of here,” he said and turned around, heading towards the exit, but Clara tried to go after him. She hadn't even apologized properly.  
“Danny, wait!” she said, but the door already closed in her face.

Then she turned her frustration back towards John.  
“What the hell was that about?!”  
He only stared blankly at her.  
“You were rude to Danny even though all I wanted to do was to apologize,” Clara said angrily.  
His frown only deepened. “What do you want with that P.E. teacher anyway? He can't even seem to buy you a meal.”  
“That's not the point, that's-” Clara broke off and took another deep breath. No, they weren't going to have an argument in the middle of a petrol station on Christmas Day. “Nevermind. Let's just pay and go home.”  
On her way to the register Clara grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf as she headed towards the checkout. If the evening continued like this afternoon had started, she would need every drop she could get to make it through.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, guys :D If sometimes tells you jealous John isn't the worst that's gonna happen to Clara this Christmas, then you're probably right.

Some of her anger had faded on the way home and when Clara let them both inside her flat, she felt almost certain the rest of the evening could only get better. After all, John was here, so she wouldn't have to sit through the entire family dinner on her own.  
“I'm gonna wrap Linda's present,” Clara announced as she made her way into the living room and was only half aware that John followed her reluctantly.  
When he cleared his throat behind her, she saw that he was awkwardly standing in the doorway. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, “For earlier.”  
With a sigh Clara sank down on the sofa. “Okay,” she replied, “Now, let's not talk about Danny any further. I'll deal with him after the holidays. Hand me the wrapping paper over there, will you?”  
Silently John reached for the roll and Clara could feel his gaze on her as she wrapped Linda's present as best as she could. It wasn't exactly a thoughtful gift, but at least she couldn't blame Clara for forgetting about it altogether. When she was done she leaned back against the sofa with a heavy sigh.  
“Are you okay?” John asked her, still eyeing her with a slightly concerned expression on his face.  
“No, but I will be once this evening is over,” she replied and then suddenly strange smell hit her nose. She sniffed, but the smell remained. Something disgusting. Something. . . _burning_. “Oh no! The turkey!”

Clara immediately jumped up from the couch and darted off into the direction of the kitchen, but once she opened the door she was greeted by the sight of dark clouds of smoke and then John appeared next to her as well.  
“No,” she complained, switching off the oven and opening the lid, only to be met with more smoke, “No, no, no, no, no!”  
“I suppose we can scrape off the crust,” John suggested carefully while Clara let the lid fall shut again, cursing this damned day internally.  
Then the sound of the doorbell rang through the silence.  
“And here we go,” Clara announced and she took a deep breath before she went to open the door to greet her family. If only this day was over already.

* * *

John pulled the turkey out of the oven and examined the damage. The skin was dark, but not so badly burned that it was beyond hope. Maybe, if they peeled it off, it could still make a decent dinner. He felt so sorry for Clara even though he hadn't even met her family yet – and he was determined to delay the meeting for as long as possible by staying in the kitchen. Clara was having a really bad day and he hadn't exactly helped with Danny, but seeing the man in flesh had just aroused a whole new level of anger inside him. He wasn't good enough for Clara, that much was obvious, and John would make Clara see that by being a model guest throughout the entire dinner, even if it meant swallowing a comment or two. He was determined to be on his best behaviour.

John stepped into the living room just when Clara had finished greeting her family and her grandmother was the first to look up and notice him.  
“Clara, who is this young gentleman that has been hiding in your kitchen?” she asked in a friendly manner.  
He watched as a woman who could only be Clara's stepmother rolled her eyes. “He's probably a handyman. Or a cook. Have you hired a cook for the turkey, Clara?”  
“Oh, I wish I had,” she mumbled before she spoke more clearly, “This is John Smith. I've invited him to join us for Christmas dinner.”  
Whereas her father and stepmother seemed confused, Clara's grandmother stepped forward and held out her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Smith.”  
“Oh no,” he granted her his best smile. John would be extremely nice, just for Clara, “The pleasure is all mine. Clara has told me so much about you.”  
“Clara, who is this man?” her father asked after a moment, still looking confused.  
“He's her new boyfriend of course. Who else could he be if he's not a handyman?” Linda whispered, but she made damn sure that everyone still heard her.  
Clara took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “John is the recipient of Jamie's heart,” she explained carefully, “I contacted him a few months ago and we've become friends. John has no family, so I invited him to join us at least for a nice dinner.”  
Linda sniffed the air. “Your dinner smells burned,” she commented coldly, “Did you not follow my instructions?”  
John had expected Clara to answer, but instead she put on a serene smile and reached for her wineglass to have a sip. She was still smiling when she put it back down, but it seemed forced to him, and it probably was. “I'll fetch the turkey now.”

John watched the family exchange their presents, keeping a close eye on Clara at all times. She wasn't enjoying herself and she drank too much every time Linda made a remark. John would have loved to punch that woman in the face for the way she spoke to Clara, but he was afraid it would only make everything worse, so instead he used the moment when her family was distracted and reached out to take her hand under the table where no one could see it. She turned around to face him and now Clara couldn't even fake a smile. She looked downright miserable and John wished there was a way he could make her feel better. It felt like a dagger through the heart to see her so sad.  
“How is Amy doing?” her grandmother asked her after a while.  
“Amy is fine,” Clara replied, her voice betraying her sadness, “She met someone and he's nice, so they're happy.”  
“You will find someone else, too,” Linda threw in, “You're a pretty girl, some young boy will take interest sooner or later.”  
John thought that it was probably meant to sound comforting, but it was apparent that Linda didn't know her at all. Even after only three months John had come to know more about what was going on in Clara's head than Linda in years.  
“I'm not really ready for that quite yet,” Clara replied and reached for her glass again. John wished that she would stop drinking. She was already overly emotional and he dreaded to think what she might say later on.  
“Nonsense,” Linda spat, “The sooner you move on from that chaotic boy the better for you. At least without him we can have a quiet Christmas dinner.”  
Clara made a move to rise from her chair, but John held her down, his hand still entangled in hers under the Christmas table. She really hadn't exaggerated in describing her terrible stepmother and John wished there was something he could do about it without ruining the entire evening, but he couldn't think of anything at all. The best he could do was to be there for Clara.  
“Shall we eat now?” her father suddenly suggested, looking hopeful as he rose from his seat to cut the turkey.  
“I think I've lost my appetite,” Clara said grumpily and sank back into her chair before she reached for the wine glass once more, downing it in one go.  
“You should eat something,” John told her quietly and Clara simply stared at him in reply, that empty stare that screamed for help, screamed “ _Please, get me out of this_ ” but John couldn't help. He was just as caught as she was.  
“Well, I have hope that you'll get it right next year,” Linda said, “It was undercooked last year, this year it's burned. Third time's the charm, they say.”  
“You were early last year and insisted on eating immediately,” Clara replied coldly while she refilled her glass, “That wasn't my fault.”  
“Clara,” John whispered quietly, trying to stop Clara from drinking any more. She was angry already and by this rate they were headed for disaster.  
“So I suppose it was our fault too that your naked boyfriend crashed our dinner.”

Without a warning Clara rose from her seat. She swayed a little, but held on tight to the table. “It was a joke!” she yelled loudly and John could see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. He prayed that she was stop there, but he had no such luck. “You were early and Jamie had just stepped out of the shower! It was a joke!”  
She was crying in earnest now, but Linda didn't seem to care about it. She turned towards her dinner instead.  
“Sit down, Clara, you're drunk and you're making a scene,” she replied calmly and in a cold manner.  
“I loved him!” she shouted, wiping the tears from her face, “I loved him and he's gone and I miss him every single day. I don't know why you hate him so much, why you hate me so much, but I will not let you insult his memory on Christmas in my home.”  
When Linda showed no reaction whatsoever Clara turned around on her heels and left the living room. A few seconds later her bedroom door slammed shut.  
“Was that really necessary?” Clara's grandmother asked, but John had had enough of them all.  
He got up from his seat and leaned across the table to take Linda's plate away.  
“Hey!” she complained loudly.  
“You're officially uninvited,” John growled angrily before he turned around as well and made his way to Clara's bedroom, leaving Linda's plate on the corridor drawer on his way.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, guys!!! Are you in as much of a need of comfort as Clara is now?

Carefully John opened the bedroom door and he had no time to brace himself as Clara instantly flung her arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably while her tears drenched his shirt. He had no choice but to hug her back and, if he was completely honest, that was all he wanted to do right now. To hold her, to comfort her, be there for her until all of her pain had faded away. He hated to see her so miserable.  
“I miss him,” she wailed against his chest, “It hurts so much, John, you have no idea. I can't do it. I can't. It doesn't stop.”  
He had no idea what to say. He was terrible at comforting people, but he wanted so much to try for Clara, because he loved her and it broke his heart to see her mourning another man. He couldn't stand her crying, it was tearing him apart. So instead of saying anything he just pulled her closer to his chest and bent down, leaving a soft kiss on her head. When was the last time he had done that for a woman? John couldn't remember and he didn't think it mattered. Clara had melted his heart and here they were, in a mess so deep there seemed to be no getting out of.  
“Jamie was the best person I've ever met,” she sobbed quietly, “I can't stand to hear her talk about him like that. It's not fair.”  
“Your stepmother is a bitch,” John told her bluntly, “I took away her plate as punishment if that makes you feel better.”  
Clara gave a short laugh before she sniffed again and buried her head deeper against his chest. It seemed as if she never wanted to let go – and he didn't want her to either. John just wanted to hold her forever.  
“She's right though. Oh God,” Clara groaned, “I'm drunk and I made a scene at Christmas.”  
She continued to cry and John thought she might never stop at this rate until she was completely dehydrated. “Come here, lightweight,” he whispered and gently pushed her backwards until she came to sit on the bed. When she looked up at him her eyes were red and glassy and the tears still came flowing down her cheeks.  
“Don't leave,” she whispered pleadingly, but John had no intention to.  
He reached down and covered her with the duvet, but before he could even settle down properly Clara once more wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down to lie next to her while she buried her face in his shirt again. The sobbing had stopped, but she was still crying quietly, so John closed his arms around her and waited. At some point she would be exhausted and the tears would dry.

The door opened and John looked up to see Clara's grandmother peek inside, a worried look on her face. She was already wearing her coat, ready to leave, and John simply nodded to let her know that he had everything under control. She closed the door again, leaving them alone.  
John held Clara close, stroking her soft hair with one of his hands in an attempt to comfort her and it appeared to be calming her down more and more as time passed.  
“My head is spinning,” Clara croaked after a while, her voice sounding broken after all the crying.  
“You drank too much. You should have eaten something,” he said quietly, his hand resting on her head.  
“Not hungry,” she mumbled in reply and took a deep breath before she nuzzled her face against a part of his shirt that was still dry. “Mhhh, you smell good. Did anyone ever tell you that?”  
John chuckled. “Excuse me while I'm not taking compliments from a tiny, drunk person.”  
“Oi,” Clara looked up at him. Her eyes were still red, but the tears had dried. “I'm not tiny.”  
“At least you're not denying the rest,” he replied.  
Clara lay back down, resting her head against his chest once more. “Can you stay, please?” she asked weakly, “I don't wanna be alone right now.”  
“Okay,” he said quietly and rested his arms around her back again. Under different circumstances he would have been ecstatic to hold her like this. The way she fit into his arms, the pleasant warmth of her body, that wonderful smell of her hair. He loved every bit of that. But as it was Clara only needed comfort because she was crying about another man, one he just couldn't compete with.  
Then suddenly John became aware that she was stroking his chest, that part where his scar was hidden beneath his shirt. There was an odd tingling sensation where she caressed it.  
“I'm glad his heart saved your life,” she whispered.  
John took her hand in his own, leading it away from his heart because the sensation was beginning to confuse him a little too much. “I'm glad, too.”  
“You didn't seem so sure when we first met.”  
“I'm sure now,” John replied and suddenly thought of something, “Hey, wanna tell me that story about last Christmas that involved your naked boyfriend? I must admit I'm curious.”  
To his surprise Clara laughed, an honest, real, heartfelt laugh and it was a wonderful sound.  
“My family was early and Jamie stepped out of shower and straight into the living room where everyone else was already sitting at the table,” Clara began.  
“I can't imagine Linda liked that so much.”  
Clara chuckled. “Not at all. But Jamie was. . . well, he was Jamie, he was funny. He just went with it, shook everyone's hand, said hello, attempted to hug Linda,” she giggled, “And sat down at the dinner table, stark naked.”  
John couldn't help but laugh with her until Clara suddenly grew silent again.  
“I loved him for that,” she admitted, sniffing, and John pulled her closer again. Clara fell silent in his arms and after a while seemed to be drifting off to sleep, the exhausting and wine finally getting the better of her, while John vowed to never let her go.

* * *

There was a dull throbbing in her temples and when Clara attempted to swallow her throat felt as rough and dry as sandpaper and she noticed the signs for what they were: a nasty hangover. She attempted to move to find a more comfortable position when she realized that someone was holding her. Clara blinked a couple of times and could make out the shape of a sleeping John right next to her. With a sigh she rested her head back against his chest, glad that he was still there.  
Last night had gone horribly wrong, Clara realized that, but at least John was here and she hoped he wouldn't let her go so soon. It had been months since someone had held her like that and Clara hadn't even realized how much she had missed the feeling of a man's arms around her while she slept. She had missed that warm feeling of being loved and protected and even though John was only a friend, it was the best feeling she could imagine right now. She felt glad that she hadn't listened to her grandmother or Amy about him because John was the best thing that had happened to her these past six months. Now she just wanted to sleep in his arms until her hangover had retreated, but the memory of last night wouldn't quite let her rest. First Danny, then the burnt turkey and on top of that her drunken meltdown in front of her family and John. Oh God, what must he be thinking of her right now?  
“How are you feeling?” he asked her quietly and Clara realized that she had probably woken him up with her movements.  
She groaned softly. “Hungover. Thirsty,” she paused, “Comfortable.”  
“Comfortable?”  
“Mh-mh,” she smiled, “Your chest is a great pillow.”  
“A wet pillow, after you've cried buckets onto it,” John chuckled in reply.  
Finally Clara struggled out of his embrace and into a sitting position, the room spinning around her as she did. She definitely needed to eat and drink something.  
“I'm so sorry about last night,” she sighed, “I'm a mess.”  
“Better a mess than a bitch like your stepmother,” John said, but before Clara could reply anything his phone rang and John pulled it from his pocket, along with a variety of meds that he proceeded to swallow one after another, “Sorry. That was my reminder. How about I make us some breakfast now? I'm kind of starving.”  
“I should be making breakfast. It's my flat,” Clara protested, but John had already jumped out of bed.  
“Not a chance. I'm not letting you anywhere near a stove after the turkey disaster.”

After downing half a bottle of water and taking a quick shower she wrapped herself in her bathrobe and stepped into the kitchen, finding John already busy at the stove.  
“Where the hell did those come from?” she gasped at the sight of her breakfast table, “I don't remember buying tangerines.”  
“They were in your stocking, too. You were just too distracted by the biscuits to see them,” he replied as he shoved an omelette in her direction. There was freshly brewed tea and a bowl of cut up bananas and apples mixed with walnuts and yoghurt.  
“You're making me eat healthy again,” she noted.  
“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, especially if you've got a hangover,” he explained as he sat down in front of her and immediately starting cutting his own omelette and shoving it hungrily into his mouth.  
“Thank you,” Clara said sincerely, “For everything you've done for me and that includes playing nice with my family and comforting me and making me breakfast. At first I thought you were rude and unmannered and a complete arse.”  
John looked up, frowning, but Clara smiled at him.  
“I'm glad I've stuck around long enough to see the real you.”  
John's lips curled into a smile and moments later into a shy grin and then he did something that surprised her. He reached across the table and took her hand in his own. “So am I,” he replied.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely, sweet comments :) Now, how could it go on between them after their cuddle session?

Clara had been staring at her phone for a long while when she finally took a deep breath and reached for it. She had to do it at some point, better sooner than later, so she might as well get it over with now.  
“Yes?” Danny answered after a couple of rings.  
“Hey,” Clara greeted him in a shy tone, “Glad to see you're not too mad to take my calls.”  
“Still waiting for that apology,” he replied.  
“Yes,” she said and nodded to herself, “And you'll get that right now. I'm sorry I just left you sitting at that pub, I really am. I know I should have said something that night or called you the next day and there is really nothing that can justify that I was acting like an arsehole. I'm sorry.”  
She exhaled sharply, glad to have gotten this off her chest at last. Even if she wasn't going to date Danny, they were still colleagues and had to see each other five times a week whether they wanted to or not.  
“Okay,” Danny finally said, “Apology accepted. Care to explain why you did it?”  
“I'm not ready, Danny,” she admitted after a moment, “You're nice and you're sweet, but the kiss showed me that I'm not feeling that way for you. I was confused and I was hungry and Amy and Rory were getting on my nerves and then John texted me, asking whether I wanted to join him for dinner. I didn't think. I just left.”  
“He's the guy I saw you with yesterday, isn't he? How do you even know him, he's, like, twice your age?”  
Clara had told him that it was a long story and she guessed that now was the time to tell it to Danny. He had been her friend before they tried going out on a date. She should tell him.  
“Jamie donated his heart after he died,” Clara explained, “John is the recipient. I got to know him a few months ago and we're friends. He's a great friend actually.”  
“Is he in love with you?” he asked plainly.  
“What? Why would you say that?” Clara asked in surprise. John being in love with her, the thought was ridiculous.  
She heard Danny take a deep breath. “Because he's very protective of you. And he got jealous when he realized who I was.”  
Clara shook her head even though Danny couldn't see it. “He's not in love with me. He's rude to everyone he meets, don't take it personally.”  
“Okay, then there's no reason to worry, I guess,” he said after a moment, “Just saying that if he was, he would be too old for you.”  
“He's not. He's really, really not,” Clara reassured him, smiling, “So, we're good?”  
“Yeah,” he breathed in reply, “We're good.”

Suddenly Clara heard a beeping sound coming from her phone and she checked her display to see that Amy was calling. “Listen, Danny, I've got to go. Amy's calling,” she explained, “See you after the holidays.”  
She hung up and took Amy's call before she was greeted by her friend's loud, excited voice and that was when she realized her hangover hadn't quite passed yet.  
“Ugh, keep it down,” Clara groaned in pain. Once the phone call was over Clara would take a nice, long nap. The thought of it seemed really appealing right now.  
“You sound like you had a boozy Christmas,” her friend chuckled on the other end of the line.  
“Do not remind me,” Clara warned, “It was terrible and I really don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that my stepmother is a beast and John is a saint for putting up with me.”  
“You invited John over for Christmas?” Amy's voice sounded more than curious.  
Clara let out a long sigh. “I did and I'm glad he came. He is-,” she broke off, trying to find a word to describe him, “He's the best. Now, let's talk about something else. Why you're calling, for example.”  
“Well,” Amy started, “Rory and I wanted to celebrate New Year's Eve together and we were wondering whether you wanted to join us. It's not just the two of us, a couple of other friends are coming, too.”  
That was really the last thing Clara wanted to do on New Year's Eve. Even if they brought friends along, they would most certainly have a partner as well and Clara would just end up feeling like the third wheel no matter what. “Don't take it personally, but I think I'd like a quiet New Year's Eve this year. I'm not feeling up to a big party.”  
“Clara, you know what they say. The way you spend New Year's Eve is how you'll spend the whole next year,” her friend reminded her sternly.  
“I don't care,” she said plainly, “I'd rather be at home alone than somewhere I really don't wanna be.”  
But maybe John had no plans either, which could mean that she wasn't going to spend New Year's Eve alone after all.

* * *

John was in the middle of a paragraph when the phone rang next to him and he picked it up to see that Vastra was calling him. Of course, they hadn't heard from each other in a while.  
“Hey, what can I do for you?” he asked after pressing the green button, still typing to finish at least this sentence while he spoke.  
“I just wanted to know whether you'll still be coming over for New Year's Eve so we can prepare the guest bedroom,” Vastra asked him in a slightly annoyed manner and John realized he probably should have called earlier.  
“Of course I'll come. It's our tradition, isn't it?”  
“That's what I wanted to hear,” she said and John could hear the smile in her voice, but then he thought of something else. Something that had never played a role in all of these years, but it did now. “Listen, you have two guest bedrooms, right?”  
“We do,” Vastra replied slowly, sounding more than a little intrigued, “Why? Are you thinking about bringing another guest?”  
John exhaled sharply. He didn't even know whether Clara had plans already. She probably had. “I don't know. She probably has plans already. Who doesn't at this point? But if she doesn't I would like to bring her.”  
Clara would love the Isle of Wight and the town, John was sure she would. Maybe it would cheer her up a little.  
“Well, well, the great Doctor has met a girl,” Vastra chuckled, “We'd be more than interested to meet her.”  
“Don't call me that,” he growled, “And Clara is just a friend. A friend who has had a rough year. I just want to do something nice for her.”  
It wasn't even a lie. To Clara he was only a friend after all.  
“Well, bring her along then,” she told him, “I'll tell Jenny to prepare both guest bedrooms just in case. We have more than enough space.”  
“Thank you,” John replied sincerely, “See you on Friday then.”

Once he had hung up John realized that he had received a message while he had been talking to Vastra. He opened it immediately.

_**Clara:**  
I totally forgot to ask: Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?_

John smiled to himself. Clara didn't have plans, he just knew it, and he would get to spend the day with her. In his head he already started making a list of all the things he wanted to show her. Oh, she would just love it.

_**John:**  
I was just about to ask you the same thing. I'm visiting friends on the Isle of Wight. Wanna come?_

He added a picture of Vastra's and Jenny's idyllic house at the coast to the message and sent it and he didn't even have to wait long for her reply.

_**Clara:**  
Count me in!_


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks for your lovely comments. Ah, John and Clara, they keep us waiting for the romance, don't they?

“I'm gonna be sick,” Clara complained and John watched her tighten her grip around the railing. They had only boarded the ferry ten minutes ago and John found the sea air around his nose quite soothing. Apparently Clara didn't.  
“You're not gonna be sick,” he replied brusquely, “Sea sickness only happens when you can't see land and you can see the shore perfectly well from here.”  
“Since when are you an expert on my stomach?” she craned her neck, looking at him through her large, brown eyes that betrayed all of her sadness if you just looked into them long enough. But today they also had a sparkle to them and seeing that filled him with joy. Clara had been looking forward to this trip ever since he had invited her, he could tell.  
He chuckled. “Since I made the breakfast that's in it? You'll be fine, trust me.”  
“Okay, good point,” she concluded, “Maybe I won't be sick. It's quite nice out here, even if the boat is moving a little much for my taste.”  
She looked out onto the ocean and John heard her take a deep breath before she turned back around. “Who are these friends of yours?”  
John stepped forward and leaned on the railing as well. “Vastra used to work for the police.”  
“Used to?” Clara raised an eyebrow at him.  
“She worked that case, trying to catch a guy who had attacked several woman with acid. He wanted revenge, left her entire face scarred. So she retired and they only consult her every now and then. I consult her for my books sometimes when I need police insight. Jenny is her wife. They're basically the only friends I have,” John explained and suddenly Clara moved and seconds later her entire body was pressed against him in a tight hug. “Uhm, Clara?”  
“Wrong,” she sighed, snuggling her face against his chest, “You have me now. And I can't wait to meet your friends.”  
The way she clung to him, the way she seemed to cover every inch of his body suddenly sent his mind racing. It was cold out here and he craved her warmth, but also he craved something else. To touch her, hold her, kiss her like he had that evening _as an experiment_. Oh, what he would give to kiss her right now, kiss away her sorrow and her grief. But Clara didn't see him in that way, she couldn't, not while she was still mourning Jamie. Suddenly John felt overcome by a strange anger towards that man he had never met because he had had such a beautiful thing as Clara in his life and he had been careless and left her behind. If only there was a way to make her see he could love her, too. If only she would _see_ him.  
Reluctantly he closed his arms around her and pulled her closer. How could a simple embrace be so wonderful and hurt so much at the same time?

John noticed how Clara's eyes grew wider as he drove through Shanklin on their way to Vastra's and Jenny's cottage just outside of town.  
“This is so adorable,” she said in amazement, “The town looks so cute.”  
“Wait until we arrive,” he told her with a smile, “You'll love the cottage. It's a bit isolated from the rest, but very peaceful.”  
With a sigh Clara leaned back into the car seat. “I should move here,” she concluded, “Just say 'Fuck it all' and move into a lonely, little farm with a bunch of cats and maybe some sheep.”  
John chuckled. “And what would you do all day long? You'd be bored after the first week.”  
“True,” Clara admitted after a moment, “You could visit me. That would make it less boring.”  
“If you leave out the cats, yeah.”  
“Ah damn,” she sighed, “I forgot you've been doomed to a life without pets.”  
“Never been much of a pet person anyway,” John turned around and smiled in her direction, glad to see Clara smile back at him. Yeah, he was certain that this weekend would cheer her up at least a little. 

A short while later John parked his car in front of the old cottage house and got out, Clara following him on his heels while he carried their bags towards the door.  
“You didn't lie,” she looked up at the house in awe, “It really is idyllic here. I just wish it wasn't so cold.”  
John watched her pull her coat closer around her neck while he rang the door bell and a moment later he was greeted by the sight of Jenny's friendly face.  
“Hey there,” she said and hugged him, something John wasn't so quite fond of, but he let it pass, “You guys are just in time for lunch. I've followed the recipe that you sent me, John, and it smells amazing.”  
Then Jenny turned towards Clara with a broad and friendly smile. “Hello, I'm Jenny,” she said and outstretched her hand.  
Clara shook it immediately. “I'm Clara.”  
“John told us you'd be joining us,” she replied, still smiling, “Come on in. I'll show you your rooms. Vastra is still on a conference call with the police department in London, but she should be done soon.”  
Jenny led them into Clara's room first, which she seemed to love a lot and John could tell why. It was freshly renovated and very bright, with a large, comfortable looking bed, even though it didn't seem quite finished. There was still a lot of furniture missing, but then again, last time he had seen it, it had been a dirty storage room. Whatever plans Vastra and Jenny had for this room, they clearly weren't finished yet.  
“Can I use your bathroom?” Clara suddenly asked.  
“Sure,” Jenny nodded, “It's the last door down the hall.”  
Clara excused herself while Jenny moved on to the next room that John would be sleeping in, but as soon as they had stepped inside, she closed the door behind them.  
“You like her!”  
John frowned at her. “Yes,” he replied in confusion, “Of course. Why would I bring someone I didn't like?”  
“No, silly,” Jenny giggled, “You _like_ her. In all those years you've never even mentioned a girl, so this must be serious.”  
John rolled is eyes, groaning in annoyance. “So what if I do? Clara has other things on her mind right now and I'm trying to be a good friend.”  
“How did you even meet? I can't imagine you wooed her with your charms,” she chuckled.  
John bit down on his lip, giving Jenny a sheepish smile. “Clara is,” he paused, “My organ donor's girlfriend.”  
For a moment Jenny did nothing but gawk at him before she put her arms akimbo and that look on her face slowly turned into a frown. “Really, John? It's never actually simple when you're involved,” she sighed, “Ah well, let's leave that for later. Lunch is going to get cold and afterwards Vastra and I have a matter we would like to propose to you.”  
John's eyebrows shot up. “A matter? What matter?”  
Now Jenny looked a little uncomfortable. “I think that's something we should discuss together with Vastra,” she said and turned around to head outside, leaving John no choice but to follow her.  
Whatever matter they wanted to discuss with him later on, John had a feeling he wouldn't like it so very much.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the sweet comments XD Now, let's see if some of you have been right. . .

John had tried to wait patiently for lunch to be over, for everyone to stop eating, he really had. But now Vastra, Jenny and Clara were still eating at a slow pace and making small talk about their lives and their jobs and when the topic eventually shifted to their love lives John finally lost his patience and shoved his plate aside.  
“Alright, enough,” he said grimly, “What is it that you need to talk to me about that Jenny wouldn't tell me earlier?”  
Everyone at the table fell silent and while Clara looked at him Vastra and Jenny exchanged a few glances and eventually a smile. It was Vastra who spoke to him first.  
“We want a child,” she explained calmly.  
“What?” John asked.  
Jenny took a deep breath. “And we need your help for that.”  
“ _What?!_ ”  
When the two women looked a little lost John suddenly felt Clara's hand on his arm. “John, I think they're asking-”  
“I know what they're asking,” he spat back, turning towards Vastra and Jenny again, “And I'm wondering whether you've lost your mind. Have you gone _completely_ bonkers?”  
“We talked about it for a long time and we don't want it to be a stranger's baby. Who knows what you'll end up with? No, we discussed it and you were the first person that came to our minds. And the only one. You're practically family,” Vastra reasoned, keeping her voice calm and low.  
John shook his head. He had never wanted to be a father, he had never even seen the point of bringing another living being into this world and this suggestion came completely out of the blue. He was probably the worst possible choice for a sperm donor.  
“Listen,” John exhaled sharply, trying to think of a way to make it plain to them how bad a choice he really was, “I'm grumpy and tactless and I'm really bad with people. Do you actually want a child that could turn out just like me?”  
Vastra and Jenna exchanged another glance and eventually gave a short nod in his direction. John leaned back in his chair and sighed.  
“Why not adopt one? You wouldn't even have to go through the trouble of carrying it around in your belly for nine months, not to mention some painful hours of giving birth,” John suggested hopefully, trying his best to change their mind about the matter. A child with his genes could only be a disaster.  
“We've tried,” Jenny admitted sadly, “And it doesn't matter how much you want a child or how long you've been married, they always prefer straight couples. They'd give a child to anyone before they give it to us.”  
“You don't have to decide right away. Think about it, take as long as you need,” Vastra threw in, “Also how much you'd be involved in his or her life would be entirely up to you. You know we'd never ask you for money. The rest is up to you, but at some point, when the child is old enough, we would like to let them know who their biological father is.”  
John nodded slowly. “And it has to be me?”  
Vastra smiled at him. “We would like that, yes.”  
“Which one of you is going to be the mother? Did you draw straws or-”  
“We'd both be the mothers,” Jenny corrected him, “But I'll be carrying the child. I've already had an appointment with my doctor about the procedure and he says I'm young and healthy and that he has no doubts it's going to be successful.”  
“Fine,” John hissed, “I'll think about it, but that's not a yes yet.”  
Still Vastra and Jenny beamed at him as if he had already agreed. A year ago he would have said no on the spot, but as he stared into the hopeful faces of his friends John suddenly felt something tug at him, a desire to help, but not at a cost like that, especially since they seemed to have no idea what they would be getting into.

* * *

Clara didn't fail to noticed that the earlier conversation was still going through John's mind during the evening, even after they had stepped outside to stand around a small fire and wait for midnight to approach. She was still cold despite the cup of tea she was clutching in her hands and for a moment she regretted the decision of choosing tea over the mulled wine Vastra and Jenny were drinking. But Clara had decided that her last contact with alcohol on Christmas Day had been more enough for at least the next few weeks and besides, she had chosen the tea out of solidarity with John, who had to abstain because of his meds. And yet the cold made her slowly inch a little closer to him step by step, maybe hoping to get a little of his body heat or a hug. Clara would really like a hug right now, or just his arm around her shoulder.  
“John,” Vastra suddenly said, “Why aren't you singing and playing the guitar right now? You do it every year.”  
Clara instantly turned around to look at him. “You do _what_?”  
John cleared his throat. “Because Clara is here and I don't wanna scare her away.”  
“Can I decide for myself what scares me and what doesn't?” Clara started to giggle. She would have never taken John for a musician and the thought of it sparked her curiosity more than just a little. “Please, play something.”  
“Fine,” John rolled his eyes, “But if your run away, screaming, it'll be on your head.”  
“I'll take my chances,” Clara giggled and watched as he vanished inside.  
“He's being modest,” Jenny threw in, “He's really good at that.”  
Clara laughed, frowning at them. “John? Modest?”

When the opening riff of _Pretty Woman_ suddenly rang through the night Clara shot around to see John stepping out of the door, a guitar strapped around his chest. He was playing the guitar, actually playing the guitar and even in the darkness Clara could see that he winked at her right before he came to a halt next to the fire and the melody stopped. For a moment she was too baffled by this new revelation to say anything.  
“ _Pretty Woman_ , huh?” Vastra asked curiously, “I wonder which one of us he means by that.”  
“Shush,” Jenny hushed her instantly.  
Clara thought she saw John blush, but figured it was probably just the warm glow of the fire.  
“Well, lovely Mrs. Peterson over there of course,” John suddenly said and raised his hands, waving in the direction of the fence where an elderly couple was just passing by the cottage.  
“Hello, Mr Smith!” the old lady greeted him cheerfully, “Any new novels coming out soon?”  
“Working on it,” he called across the lawn, “You'll get the first signed copy!”  
Clara couldn't believe her eyes. John was being nice. He was thawing among his friends, even playing the guitar, he was nice and sociable and it was an amazing transformation to watch. She had caught glimpses of it, of course, but with her he often still held back and hid this side of him behind his grumpy mask. Maybe one day she would get _this him_ as well. She would really like that.  
John played a few more songs and to her astonishment he sang, too, and pretty well at that. It seemed as Clara just wouldn't stop being surprised tonight. However when midnight was approaching he placed the guitar on a nearby chair and stepped a little closer.  
“It's almost time,” Jenny announced.  
“Look, there,” John said excitedly and placed his arm around Clara's shoulder, pointing at the sky where the first fireworks were starting to go off.  
Finally happy that she had gotten her wish she leaned against his chest, keeping John from pulling his arm away once more. His body was warm against her own and Clara hoped that this moment would last just a little longer. “It's beautiful,” she whispered.  
“Happy New Year,” he said and pulled her closer.  
“Happy New Year,” she replied and craned her neck to look at him, giving John her brightest smile.

 

Her feet felt so heavy that John had to take her hand and practically drag her upstairs to their bedrooms, but a part of her still didn't want the evening to end despite her exhaustion and the late hour. Tonight she had finally seen the real John, the way he truly was when he was around friends and comfortable and with every passing day she liked him a little more. He truly was the best thing that could have happened to her at this point and that was when she suddenly realized that she hadn't thought about Jamie once ever since she had stepped off that ferry. And now Clara was determined to ban the thought of him from her mind for the rest of the trip as well because for the first time in months she felt free. Free from her grief and her sorrow and free from everything else that usually troubled her – all thanks to John.  
“Come on, off to bed,” John prompted her, followed by a yawn, as he tried to pull her along, but Clara wouldn't budge. Instead she stopped and smiled at him. “Okay, that look is strange. Tell me, did you really not put wine your tea?”  
Clara giggled in reply. “Really didn't put wine in my tea,” she pulled a face, “Ew, who'd do that?”  
“Just checking.”  
Still Clara smiled broadly at him. “I'm happy,” she admitted, “That is all.”  
Then finally his face lit up as well. “That's. . . that's good.”  
“This place his nice,” she gestured around the hall, “Your friends are nice. It's a shame we have to go home today.”  
“Yeah, but only in the afternoon,” John argued with a grin.  
“Yeah,” she breathed in reply and finally stepped forward to reach for her door handle, “Good night, John.”  
“Good night, Clara.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you are the best! Thank you so much for the sweet, sweet comments! They really make my day! I get so happy when I read that you all love the story so much *hugs you all*

Maybe it was the unfamiliar bed, maybe it was her own thoughts keeping her up, but after the sun had started to rise Clara found it impossible to go back to sleep. Still in her nightgown she slipped on her boots and wrapped herself in her coat and an additional blanket and headed outside. It was cold, but beautiful out there in Vastra's and Jenny's back yard from where Clara had a lovely view on the sea and the salty smell instantly hit her nose. Maybe it would really be a nice place to move one day.  
“Clara, are you okay?” John's voice tore her from her thoughts and she turned around to see him approach her across the lawn. She had no idea how long she had been out here, but John had obviously noticed her absence from the house, perhaps he had seen her through the window.  
“Yeah,” Clara replied with a smile, “I just came out to have a look at the sea. No need to worry about me.”  
John came to stand beside her, his face turned towards the ocean. “I wasn't worried.”  
“Oh,” she giggled, “I misread that slightly panicked tone in your voice then.”  
There was a long moment of silence between them and when Clara glanced at John she couldn't help but notice that he looked very tired, as if he hadn't really gotten a lot of sleep either. He seemed troubled.  
“Have you thought about their question?” Clara asked him.  
“You mean about becoming their sperm donor?” he sighed, “Yeah, I have. All night.”  
“And?”  
John blew the air out between his lips and fell silent for a while. “I don't know. What do _you_ think?” he asked, turning to look straight at her.  
Clara frowned at him in reply. “It's not my decision to make.”  
“I know, but I'm asking your opinion,” John replied blatantly.  
“Well,” Clara inhaled sharply, “I think you should do it. They're your friends. They seem to have considered it for quite a while and I think they're very serious about it.”  
Again John remained silent before he spoke, obviously considering her words. “I never wanted children. I've never felt the need to bring another living being into this world. Don't you think that it's a little creepy to have a tiny human who has your hair and your nose and all those annoying quirks that you can't even stand on yourself?”  
Clara started to giggle. “Well, first of all, it wouldn't be _your_ child. It would be Vastra's and Jenny's kid. You'd just be, like, the cool uncle who comes to visit once or twice a year. _If_ you want that. They said it's up to you.”  
“I am the worst possible choice for that,” he groaned, “I'm really bad with people, I'm unmannered, I'm rude – who in their right mind would want me as the father of their child? I'm not exactly dad material.”  
Again Clara chuckled because she couldn't believe how thick John sometimes was. Shaking her head, she stepped forward and placed her hand on his cheek. “Listen, I don't think that's why they picked you,” she said, smiling at him.  
John arched up an eyebrow.  
“I think they picked you because you're smart, you're insanely creative, you're good looking, because deep down you're kind and gentle and you're always there for a friend in need. Yes, it takes you a while to warm up to someone, but you've warmed up to me. What makes you think the same thing wouldn't happen with this child?”  
He frowned at her. “Is that really what you see in me?” John asked quietly.  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed and went up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek, “So think about it that way.”  
And with that Clara turned around and headed back into the direction of the house and she only stopped when she heard John's voice again.  
“I bet you and Jamie had wanted children,” he said and Clara had no idea why he brought that up, why it even mattered at all, or why there was a sudden hostility in his voice. She stopped and turned to look at him for a long moment.  
“Not really,” she eventually replied with a shrug, “The subject never came up and I. . . I don't think children would have happened for us.”  
“Why not?” he asked, frowning.  
Again Clara paused. “Because as a couple we were restless,” she admitted eventually, “We were too wild to settle down like that.”  
She really couldn't understand why John had brought up this topic, but it stirred something inside her that Clara had never really been aware of. She had loved Jamie, so the rest hadn't mattered, but suddenly there was this tiny seed of doubt, a little voice that whispered into her ear that maybe she wouldn't have loved him so unconditionally forever. She had sort of wanted children, at some point in the future, but would Jamie have? Clara couldn't say. And then there was the way John looked at her right at this moment as if he knew exactly what was going on in her mind. It was a little irritating.  
“I think we should both try to get some sleep,” Clara reasoned.  
John nodded. “Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

* * *

Yet John didn't sleep, not for a single minute. His mind kept going over Vastra's and Jenny's request and all the things that Clara had said to him.  
Clara.  
She didn't even have an inkling what she was doing to him. Every time Clara looked at him all John could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss her and it seemed even worse here, on this damned island, where he felt more at home than he had ever done in London. She really just saw the best in him, overlooking everything else, and that was something he shouldn't allow. Sooner or later he would disappoint her, no matter how hard he tried, and sooner or later he would disappoint the child Vastra and Jenny would have and them by extend. He should just say no.  
But Clara was right, wasn't she? They were his friends and they did seem sincere about the matter. And wouldn't it be just a little bit nice to help them out, to have a child that he might not be able to raise, but a child that was still his in a way, even if it was just as an uncle?

With a groan John threw the duvet aside and made his way downstairs, hoping that somebody would be up and found Vastra and Jenny already sitting at the breakfast table.  
“Oh, good morning,” Vastra greeted him in a friendly manner and Jenny smiled in his direction, “Would you like a cup of tea?”  
“I'll do it,” he said blatantly, “I'll wank into a plastic cup for you, but that's where my duties end where this child is concerned.”  
“Well, as long as you won't use that kind of language around the little one, I'm sure we'll all be fine,” Vastra replied, but failed to hide the smile that was starting to spread across her face. Jenny was beaming gleefully next to her.  
“You did not just agree to be the father of their child by using the words _“wank in a plastic cup”_ , did you?” Clara asked as she stepped inside the kitchen, still wearing her bathrobe.  
Her comment was ignored when both Vastra and Jenny jumped up from their seats and approached him and he was already beginning to fear the worst when, of course, his fears came true. Both women instantly threw their arms around him in a tight hug.  
“Thank you so much,” Jenny sighed, “You have no idea what that means to us.”  
John watched Clara giggle as she pulled her phone out of her bathrobe pocket and proceeded to snap a picture. “First family portrait,” she commented with a smile.  
“Okay, okay,” John growled, “You're happy, I get it. Now enough with the hugging. And yes, I would like a cup of tea and some breakfast and afterwards I want to try out your sauna that you've been telling me about for months. I think that's the least you can do for me in return.”  
“We'll even throw in some additional towels,” Vastra joked as they both let go of him.  
“Sauna sounds nice,” Clara suddenly said, “Do you have an extra towel for me, too?”  
“Sure,” Jenny nodded with a smile, “I'll find you one of my bikinis after breakfast.”  
“Great,” Clara beamed at them and plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs while John only reluctantly took a seat.  
He had hoped to use the moment in the sauna to clear his head a little, which would be a tiny bit difficult with Clara present.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, SOOOOOOOO much for the comments :D Gah, I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you love this story so much.

Clara had her towel wrapped tightly around her body when she knocked on the wooden door and stepped inside the sauna a few seconds later. A gust of hot air and steam instantly hit her and for a moment she couldn't even see John. Then she spotted him sitting on the bench, his own towel tightened around his hips and his head leaned back against the wall. The first thing that caught her attention was the long, red scar that ran down his chest where they had performed the surgery just half a year ago. The second thing was his chest itself, pale as milk, with the traces of his workout more than obvious by now. Even with his body covered in sweat and his damp, curls flattened by the steam John looked good for his age, _really_ good.  
“Are you just going to keep standing there or will you sit down at some point?” John asked her after a while, not even opening his eyes. Of course he had heard her come in.  
Clara cleared her throat. “Sorry, I-”  
Suddenly John rose from his seat and approached her and Clara swallowed hard and braced herself for something to happen when he simply walked past her and opened the door to the outside again. A cold wind blew through the sauna, making her shiver.  
When he came back John held another towel in her direction. “Here, you can sit on this. It's softer and less sticky than the bench.”  
She wanted to thank him, but her eyes were once more glued to the scar that was now clearly on display right in front of her. “Does it hurt?” Clara found herself asking.  
“Does what hurt?” John asked back, his voice suddenly sounding a lot quieter and deeper than usual. She liked that sound.  
“Your scar,” she whispered and looked up at him. John was so much taller than her even when she was wearing heels, but right now, without her shoes on, he towered over her even more. For a brief moment she wondered if he saw her as a dwarf.  
“No,” he breathed in reply, giving her just a hint of a smile, but his eyes. . . they weren't smiling along with his lips. His eyes said something else, something she couldn't quite place, and Clara thought she had never seen them so dark before.  
She swallowed. “Can I touch it?”

Clara didn't even wait for his reply, she didn't want to give him a chance to say no because right now she was too curious to stop. Slowly she raised her hand and started to trace that red line with her index finger. His skin was damp and a little rough where they had cut it open and rippled in goosebumps under her touch, but Clara could feel his heartbeat fast beneath her palm. _Jamie's heart_.  
She didn't think. It was as if her brain had shut down for a second and something else had taken over. Clara leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest because that was all she really wanted to do at this point. She couldn't even explain why, she just needed to kiss him.  
A part of her had expected John to step away, to stop her as she trailed her lips down his scar, covering every inch of it with soft kisses, but instead she felt his hands on her shoulders, not pushing her away, no stopping her, just resting there until her lips had reached his belly and she stopped.  
Clara took a deep breath before she dared to look at him because she had no idea what she would find, but as she raised her head she could only see that John bent down to her level slowly enough for her stop him – but she didn't. Their mouths clashed in a kiss and Clara instantly parted her lips for him before she could feel his tongue on her own. John's hand wandered down her body, settling on her hips as he pressed her closer to his warm chest. Her towel slipped from her body, leaving hardly any fabric between them at all. In her mind all kinds of alarm bells went off, yelling and screaming at her, but Clara ignored them all. John felt too good, kissing him felt too good and, by God, she loved it.  
Their teeth clashed when John pushed her backwards and Clara found herself cornered between the wall and his body on top of her that was beginning to stir the wildest emotions inside of her. A part of her mind still begged her to come back to her senses, but when John moaned into her mouth as his pelvis dug into her belly all Clara could think about was to pull him closer. She wrapped her arms around him until her chest was covered by his and he sucked on her bottom lip, all the while still trailing his hand over her hip.  
Clara couldn't remember the last time she had been kissed like this, maybe she had never been kissed like this and even the shortage of breath didn't seem to stop either of them. His touch was burning on her skin, tingling and her mind felt utterly blank. She needed him a lot more than air right now as their sweaty bodies were pressed together against the wall and she felt almost intoxicated by his touch and the smell of him that just seemed to send her hormones into overload. Clara didn't care what happened next as long as he didn't stop kissing her. Right now she was willing to do anything with him.

A sound from outside the sauna eventually made John pull away and Clara instantly cursed the source until Jenny's voice was to be heard. Slowly John stumbled backwards, away from her.  
“We've still got some leftover Christmas biscuits. Do you want me to pack some up for the ride?” she called through the door.  
John was panting just like her and his eyes remained fixed on Clara even when he answered Jenny. “That would be great, thanks!”  
Clara swallowed hard as she heard Jenny's footsteps retreat and she realized that whatever had possessed them a moment ago, it had vanished with Jenny. When she looked at John now, still gasping for breath and sweaty and obviously aroused beneath his towel, all Clara could think was that they had made a huge mistake. John was her friend and she needed him as such. He was too important to her to lose him over a moment of madness.  
“I'm sorry,” she breathed, “I don't know what came over me.”  
John opened his mouth to speak, but no word came out and even Clara had run out of things to say. There was nothing that could possibly justify what she had just done except for the fact that she had wanted to do it. And she had enjoyed it. Oh damn, she had enjoyed it a lot because John was an insanely good kisser and she could still feel his hands on her body as vividly as if he was still touching her.  
“John, please say something,” Clara begged him when he was still gawking at her.  
“I, uhm,” he paused, “I'm gonna take a shower.”

And with that he rushed out of the room, the cold outdoor air hitting her face again, and Clara bent down to pick up the towel that had landed on the floor during their little escapade. Yes, _escapade_ was probably the right word for it. They had both briefly lost their mind and it would never happen again. Oh God, it could never happen again.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you want the kiss to happen again, yeah? :D Thank you for the amazing comments, as always :) You are the best!

Clara said very little on the ride home, not even complaining about the ferry ride and completely ignoring how he kept shouting at other drivers just to have something to do. John didn't think he had ever felt so bad, so ashamed in his entire life and he still couldn't quite make sense of what had happened in the sauna. Clara had kissed him and then his brain had switched off. He felt like cursing himself for acting on his feelings like that, for giving in when he knew he shouldn't have. And worst of all, she had seen how much it had aroused him. How could they possibly still be friends now after this? Clara must think he was a pervert  
That was it, then, his attempt to be nice, his attempt to be friends with a woman he was so in love with that he could scarcely believe it himself. Clara would never be able to look at him the same way ever again and if he was completely honest, John wasn't sure how long he would be able to take this. He loved her and he wanted to be with her in every way, yet every time she looked at him, every time they hugged, it hurt him a little more. Clara leaving a kiss on his scar must have been the most painful experience in his entire life because she hadn't kissed him. She had kissed her dead boyfriend. She just didn't see him.

John parked his car in front of her apartment building and switched off the engine. When the car radio stopped, the silence that remained was almost eerie.  
“Well,” Clara said carefully and in a quiet voice, “Thank you. For the lovely trip.”  
“I think we shouldn't see each other for a while,” John said, keeping his eyes fixed on the steering wheel.  
“What? Why?” Clara sounded more than a little surprised, “If it's because of the kiss, I swear, it will never happen again.”  
“Yeah, but that's the problem,” John spat and turned to look at her, “I want it to happen again.”  
All he got in return was Clara's blank stare and that look of shock in her eyes. She was surprised. She had never even seen this one coming even though she should have. John hadn't made it obvious, but he was pretty sure that the signs had been there.  
“Oh, come on, you're not stupid, Clara,” he said angrily, “You must have realized that I have feelings for you. I know it's pointless, I know you will never see me like that, I'm not even hoping for there to be anything between us. But I can't do this anymore. I can't.”  
“John,” Clara stared at him through her big, dark eyes. Oh, of course she wouldn't make it easy for him. Those eyes just melted his heart. “You're my best friend.”  
He sighed. “Maybe I'll get over it. Maybe, with a bit of time, we can just be friends. But what I can't take is the way you look at me.”  
“What?” she asked, frowning, “How do I look at you?”  
“You don't see me,” John spat, “You can't. All you see is the last remnant of your dead boyfriend!”  
Clara swallowed hard and John could start to see the tears in her eyes. And yet she wasn't even denying it. She wasn't even trying to tell him that he was wrong.  
“Get out of the car,” he told her sharply and looked away. John didn't want to see her tears or he might change his mind.  
“You're an idiot,” Clara spat back and shortly after John flinched as she slammed the car door shut behind her.  
He raised his head and watched her run across the pavement until she had reached the door and John realized that this might as well be the last he would ever see of her.

* * *

Clara didn't even care that she was still crying, as soon as she had stepped inside her flat she threw her coat and bag aside and reached for her phone, dialling her grandmother's number before doing anything else.  
“John is the biggest idiot on the entire planet!” she yelled into the telephone once her grandmother had picked up, swallowing her sobs and falling down on the sofa, “I am done with him! For good this time!”  
“Clara, calm down,” her grandmother said instantly, “What the hell happened? It's such a rollercoaster with you two, I can't keep up.”  
Clara sighed. “We went to visit his friends over New Year's Eve and everything was great. John was extremely nice and we had fun and he even played the guitar for us and sang and. . . and. . . we kissed.”  
She paused, waiting for her grandmother to respond, but she never said a word.  
“Gran? Are you still there?”  
Her grandmother chuckled. “Well, I can't say I'm really surprised after Christmas. But why is he an idiot?”  
“Because the kiss was a mistake and I told him so and when he dropped me off at home he said he had feelings for me and that I should've known and that I wasn't seeing him, but Jamie, and that we couldn't be friends anymore,” Clara blurted out, the tears still flowing over her cheeks. How could he even throw something like that in her face?  
“Is he wrong?” her gran asked carefully.  
“Of course he's wrong!” Clara shouted back at the phone, “John is my friend, he is important to me!”  
Her grandmother sighed on the other end of the line. “Yes, but do you see him completely separated from Jamie?”  
Clara paused. She wasn't sure, she really wasn't. She was in such a turmoil right now that she thought she wasn't sure of anything anymore. Clara knew that John was a different person, but every once in a while she was reminded of whose heart kept him alive.  
“You need to let Jamie go,” her grandmother reminded her, “Yes, his heart lives on, but that doesn't mean that Jamie does. And I'm not surprised that John is in love with you, it was more than obvious at Christmas.”  
“It wasn't obvious to me,” she argued in a small voice. Her tears were finally drying now that she was talking to her grandmother, but that didn't make any of it easier.  
“Yes, and you know why that is? You've closed your eyes to love completely. You probably wouldn't even realize if you're in love with him as well.”  
“Am I?” Clara asked back. Even of that she wasn't sure. Was she in love with John? Clara really couldn't tell.  
“Only you can answer that question,” she replied.  
“I don't know. I'm confused,” she admitted with a sigh, “I had always assumed it would be Jamie forever. But even of that I'm not sure now. John said something the other day, about children and I wasn't sure what Jamie would have thought about that. Would we have argued about something eventually? Would we have broken up?”  
“Clara-”  
“I want John as my friend,” she said determinedly, “I need him.”  
Her grandmother sighed heavily. “And I hope that you will fix things with him. But Clara,” she paused, “I know you mean well and I know you like him, but if he likes you so much more, then maybe you have to let him go. You're not the only person that can get hurt. Think about John's feelings, not just your own.”  
Clara leaned back on her sofa and closed her eyes. Why did life and love have to be so damn complicated?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the amazing comments, guys! You are simply the best! Now, here's my Christmas present for you. My suggestion: don't read it at the family dinner table.

Day three without Clara Oswald and John wasn't losing his mind yet. He missed her terribly, everything he did felt wrong, but he hadn't lost his mind yet. He reminded himself of that part every time he came close to answering her texts. John couldn't give in now or the pain would never stop, it would just start anew every time she touched him. He was better off without her.  
Then, while he was in the middle of editing the first chapter of his new book, the door bell rang and John checked his watch. It was already early evening and he couldn't think of anyone other than Missy who would visit him at this hour.  
Except Clara. When he opened the door she granted him an apologetic smile and held a large portion of delicious smelling fish 'n chips in his face.  
“Can I come in?” she asked him.  
His heart sank as he looked into those large, puppy dog eyes. How could he ever say no? “What's that?” he asked, nodding towards the food in her hand.  
“Well,” she paused, “You said you missed fish 'n chips back when we first met. See? I do listen and I'm not just seeing you as the recipient of Jamie's heart.”  
“I can't eat that,” he growled in reply even though his mouth was watering at the pure sight of them. Taking the chips would mean letting Clara back in his life. But she was sincere, wasn't she?  
“John,” Clara lowered the food and looked at him, her eyes still so large and so sad, “I need you. You've made yourself essential to me. Please, don't just lock me out. I know I'm not a model person. I know I'm complicated and often selfish, but most of the time I do mean well and I really, really need you.”  
With a sigh John gestured for her to step inside by waving his hand and turned around to head back into the living room. He closed his laptop and sank down on the sofa while Clara reluctantly followed his example. She put the fish 'n chips down between them and John reached for the first chip, stuffing it right into his mouth. Damn, he had really missed the taste.  
“You never even got around to eat the turkey, so I figured you could treat yourself a little with this,” she said after they had been eating in silence for a few minutes.  
John nodded, still wondering how on earth this was going to work now that Clara knew he was in love with her. Maybe he should just give it a try. Act normally. Be her friend. Maybe his feelings would pass.  
He chuckled. “You do realized that a portion of this equals two hours on the exercise bike? Or four hours of walking around London?”  
Clara giggled. “Yeah, or sex,” she laughed.  
John stopped and swallowed the fish and as soon as Clara realized what she had said she lowered her gaze.  
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled.  
He let out a groan and pushed the fish 'n chips aside, his appetite having left him all of a sudden. “How is this supposed to work, Clara? You know I have feelings for you, we both know that you don't. It doesn't matter what we do, it's always going to be awkward from now on,” John complained loudly.  
“Doesn't have to be,” Clara replied and when he looked up she was giving him a shy smile, “Not if I decide to give it a try.” 

John didn't understand what was happening, not until Clara had swung her leg over and straddled his lap. His heart was beating a lot faster again all of a sudden at the proximity. He could feel her on top of him, feel her hands on his shoulder and he wanted to protest, he really did, but he just couldn't.  
“Shut up,” Clara gave a nervous laugh.  
“I, uhm,” he cleared his throat. She was too close. He couldn't think. All John could do was feel. “I'm not saying anything.”  
“Good,” she concluded before she bent down and brushed their lips together.  
He was lost and he knew it. His feelings for her would never fade away because John couldn't even remember ever feeling like this just because of a simple kiss. His heart was racing, his mind was utterly blank and he felt nervous, so nervous. For a moment John even thought all this excitement was too much to bear when Clara parted her lips for him and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, feeling her. God, he felt too much and all at the same time. Her hips digging into his crotch, brushing his member and already causing his blood to rush south. No wonder he couldn't think straight. Clara's hands were tangled in his hair and in return he closed his arms around her, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened, as it became rougher and just a little more desperate. It was too much and not even enough at the same time.  
The suddenly her hands were gone from the back of his head and instead trailed down over his chest and landed on his belt, the thought of her so close to the centre of his arousal sending sparks through his entire body. Clara broke the kiss, gasping for air and John used that moment to move on to her neck, covering that soft, delicate skin with his lips. She smelled so insanely good that her scent alone was intoxicating and John couldn't help himself. He closed his lips and sucked hard, scraping his teeth along her throat.  
Clara gasped and shifted in her seat, her hands finally dropping below his belt to palm him through his trousers. Damn, he was hardening already and her touch was making him wish there weren't so many layers between them.  
“Don't stop,” she panted and craned her neck to give him better access while his hands started to wander. John wasn't sure how much she would allow him, so he carefully ran them over her stomach and when she didn't protest, he moved on to her breasts. Damn those layers. Damn her shirt and her bra. He wanted to feel her.  
Apparently Clara was thinking the same thing when she leaned back and before John knew what was happening she had taken her shirt by the hem and pulled it over her head, leaving her in front of him in only her underwear. John didn't have time to really look when she reached for his shirt as well and attempted to pull it over his head. It landed somewhere behind them. John didn't care.  
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her breast, fumbling with his hands behind her back to unhook her bra when it finally came loose and slipped down. Clara was so beautiful, so perfect, so small in his arms and the sounds she made while he sucked her nipple sent his mind racing. He was turning her on, John could tell by the way she started to grind against him, by her rapid breathing and it thrilled him beyond reason to know that it was all because of his touch. While his lips were still busy with her nipples John dipped one hand past the waistband of her skirt and tights and to his delight he found her already wet. It was then that Clara reached for his hand and started guiding him, guiding his fingers along her clit while she started to moan on top of him, a sound that made his cock twitch in excitement. Oh, how wet she was and how he would just love to dive into her.  
“Fuck,” Clara muttered after a while and suddenly pulled free of him. She struggled into a standing position and John remained on the sofa, completely baffled.  
“What's wrong?” he asked her, his voiced slightly panicked. He didn't want her to stop. He didn't want to stop touching her.  
“Clothes,” she complained and proceeded to strip out of her skirt and underwear. Again there was no time to properly look at her before she bent down and hastily started undoing his belt.  
“Clara,” he breathed when she pulled his pants down, “I don't have anything at home.”  
“Condoms. In my bag,” she panted quickly as she straddled his lap again, now utterly naked and just inches away from him. So close. So damn close. “Brought some just in case. Now touch me!”  
“Bossy,” he growled, but his voice was drowned out in a hiss when she reached between his legs. Her touch was electrifying and it took all of his willpower not to take her right on the spot just to satisfy the urges she was causing in him. He was so hard already, the skin of his cock tingling a little more with every touch.  
John swallowed before Clara brought their lips back together in a kiss and he lowered his hand again, rubbing her clit with his thumb while she rocked against him. He moaned into her mouth when she brushed the tip of his cock with her fingers, spreading his precum all over him. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for long, not when her hand had such firm grip around him, stroking him until he was half mad with arousal. And she was good at that, driving him to insanity.  
At last his fingers dug inside her wetness and Clara countered his movements with her hips, gasping when they increased the speed.  
“Please,” John begged, “Let me inside you. I need to-”  
His words were drowned out in a moan as Clara tightened her grip, pumping him hard. He couldn't last. Not like this.  
“No, don't stop,” Clara panted, her face flushed in arousal and her eyes closed as she tightened her muscles around him and John dug deeper inside her, causing her to moan loudly as her head fell back. “Please, don't stop. I need. . . I-”  
Clara gasped for air when she came, a guttural sounds coming from the back of her throat when her muscles clenched around his fingers and John left them there, giving Clara a moment to revel in her ecstasy while his own cock was still pulsing with want, craving the same sort of release he had just delivered her.  
When he pulled out, Clara leaned forward and pressed a short, breathless kiss to his lips before she smiled at him. “Now it's your turn.”

John could do nothing but watch in awe while she reached for her bag and hastily opened the condom wrapper. It was going to happen. He was finally going to be with Clara. Even now he could scarcely believe it while she pulled the latex over his member with her skilled hand. John leaned back in anticipation while Clara adjusted her position on top of him before she came to look at him.  
“You okay?” she asked breathlessly.  
John groaned, his hands pulling her closer, trying to pull her down. “How could I not be? God, you're driving me insane here.” She was. She really, really was. John needed her so much right now he could barely stand it.  
Clara chuckled before she took him in her hand and led him to her entrance. For a second John thought he was going to come the moment his tip pushed inside her tight wetness, but as he sank deeper in at a slow pace John thought that nothing in this world could possibly compare to what he was feeling at this moment. Everything about her was perfect and when Clara was starting to pick up pace, her hands settled on his chest, and John rocked against her, his mind completely shut off, just his body responding to hers in a primal, almost surreal way, he thanked all the Gods of this world for the chain of events that had brought Clara to him. He wanted to do this with her for the rest of his life.  
A moan came over his lips again when she took him in completely, the heat and tightness almost too much to bear. “Oh Clara,” he panted, “You feel so good.”  
John opened his eyes and looked at her and what he saw almost drove him right over the edge. Her hair was wild, cheeks red and lips parted as she rode him at an increasing pace and John sat up, picking her up and lowering her on top of him at a different angle while he thrust his hips up to meet her. Every time he plunged back into her just felt sweeter the closer he came to his climax and every time he just wanted to go a little faster, a little harder until he made Clara cry out in pleasure.  
Again he lowered his hand to where they were joined and brought his finger to her clit, rubbing it at the speed of his thrusts which were becoming more uncoordinated the further she drove him. Fuck, he needed to come soon or he would burst, but he also didn't want this moment to end. This perfect moment in which he was finally one with her.  
“Oh God,” Clara whimpered, increasing her speed a little more and desperately pushing herself against his finger. She was so close and she was riding him mercilessly and any moment now it was going to happen. John couldn't hold back any longer. The feeling of her around him, on top of him, all over him, it was too overwhelming and when Clara came, her muscles pulsing violently around his cock, she dragged him over the edge with her as his orgasm took over and his whole body grew rigid in this tiny moment of pure pleasure and ecstasy. With a long groan John sank back against the sofa and closed his eyes, panting heavily while Clara climbed off him. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. There was nothing there except this feeling of pure bliss and happiness. John had her now, he was sure of that. Clara was his and his heart almost jumped out of his chest in joy at the prospect of falling asleep with her in his arms. That was all he wanted to do right now. To sleep and to hold her.  
“I love you,” he breathed, his eyes still closed.

Then suddenly John became aware of movement next to him and when he opened his eyes he saw that Clara was starting to gather her clothes. She hastily put on her shirt and skirt while stuffing the rest of her clothing in her bag.  
“Hey,” he said, frowning at her, “What is this?”  
“I'm sorry,” she said and John thought she sounded as if she was crying, but he couldn't be sure with her back turned to him.  
“Clara, don't run,” John leaned forward and reached for her arm. He just wanted to hold her, “Stay with me. Please.”  
Clara turned around to look at him and now he saw that there really were tears all over her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she croaked and pulled her hand free, “But I can't do this.”  
Before John could even react Clara had grabbed her jacket and bag and headed out of the room. For a brief moment John even considered following her, but when the front door fell shut behind her he realized that it was no use. His heart sank and for a moment it felt as if it was breaking for real. John had been wrong. Clara would never be his.  
He sank deeper into the sofa cushions and for the first time in decades he felt like crying. All he had wanted was to hold her. All he had wanted was to love her.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *comes out of her hiding place behind the sofa* Sorry about that :D  
> But still, thank you so much for the sweet and maybe slightly angry comments :)

When Clara darted outside she instantly regretted not taking her time to put all of her clothes back on. It was freezing and a harsh wind blew around her bare legs, making her shiver, but she couldn't have stayed. Clara wiped the tears from her face while more came flowing from her eyes as she made her way down the street. She just had to get away because right now she couldn't make sense of anything anymore. All of her thoughts and feelings were a big, jumbled mess in her head.  
When a taxi drove by Clara held out her hand and waved at the driver. She had to get out of the cold. She had to get away.  
“Where to?” the driver asked her.  
Under sobs Clara gave him Amy's address before she slumped back into the seat. She had to get away. 

Clara had come to John's place to follow her grandmother's advice and she had just ended up making everything worse. She had come to give him a chance and now she had only hurt him more, hurt them both. What had she been thinking? That she was in love with John, that was what she had been thinking. She still wasn't sure. She was only more confused than ever.  
“Are you alright?” the taxi driver asked her while he handed her a packet of tissues through the window.  
“Thanks,” she sniffed and proceeded to blow her nose in one of them, “Just having a rough day.”  
She couldn't possibly cry to a taxi driver about her messed up love life, he would call her insane and probably drive her right back to John's doorstep. Clara was fully aware that she shouldn't have run away, that she should have talked to John instead, but first she needed to clear her head and figure out just what exactly she was feeling for him. 

Amy opened the door immediately and upon seeing Clara's face her lips curled into a sympathetic smile before she closed her arms around her in a tight embrace.  
“Okay, Clara, who did you sleep with?” her friend asked kindly.  
“How do you know?” Clara sniffed.  
Amy chuckled as she came to look at her. “Cause I think that's about how I looked after my first night with Rory. Come in, I was about to make tea.”  
Clara felt instantly better once she was inside Amy's familiar living room and she let herself sink into the sofa cushions. Something about her friend's presence just made her feel as if everything was going to be alright. She had spent so many evenings on this couch, crying herself to sleep after Jamie's death while Amy had been right next to her, comforting her by saying that everything would be fine.  
Amy handed her a cup of tea and sat down next to her, eyeing her expectantly.  
“So?”  
“John,” Clara said simply.  
Amy's eyes widened in surprise.  
“He says he's in love with me,” she explained.  
“Oookaaaay,” her friend breathed, the surprise growing, “I did not expect that.”  
“And I think I might be in love with him, too,” Clara admitted sheepishly.  
“Okay,” Amy's voice was strict, “What the hell happened since the last time we talked because last I've heard was that you guys were just friends.”  
Clara took a sip from her tea and sighed. “That night when I kissed Danny I was confused because I didn't feel anything. Then I went to John's place and kissed him. As a test.”  
Amy raised her eyebrows at her. “You kissed him? As a _test_?” she asked, the disbelief all too obvious from her tone, “And what was the result of that test?”  
“It was different,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper, “A lot different. I was nervous and he is a great kisser and then, when I was starting to really get into it, I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped. It was too much.”  
“Because you like him?”  
Clara nodded. “I didn't realize it then. I thought it was just guilt over kissing him. But I think I was feeling guilty because I have feelings for him.”  
“So you took the test a step further and slept with him,” Amy reasoned, mocking her with her tone.  
Again Clara sighed. “We kissed again on New Year and,” she paused, exhaling sharply, “It took my breath away. It was amazing. It was. . . I can't even describe it. Then we had a fight, sort of. He said he was in love with me and accused me of only seeing Jamie when I looked at him. I just wanted to give him a chance, that's why I did it.”  
Amy granted her _that_ look, that look that told her she was acting like an idiot and she was probably right in that. What on earth had she been thinking?  
“Was it good at least?”  
Clara lowered her gaze because she hated to admit it, she felt sick admitting even to herself what she was really feeling. Suddenly the tears were back and Clara couldn't stop them.  
“Clara?” her friend asked carefully as she placed her hand on her shoulder. “What's wrong? Tell me.”  
“I've never had sex like that,” she sobbed again, “Never. Not with Jamie and not with anyone else. It felt absolutely right and great and John. . . he. . . it wasn't like anything I've ever felt before. I was out of my mind! It was like I wasn't even myself and I loved every second of it! It was too much!”  
When Clara looked at Amy she realized that her friend was laughing.  
“You had amazing sex with a man who loves you. What in God's name in your problem?”  
She wiped a tear from her face. “Don't you see, Amy? John is making me doubt everything I've had with Jamie. I don't understand it. Jamie was my everything and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and now I feel like that was all wrong!”  
Her friend only stared blankly at her.  
“What if Jamie wasn't my great love after all? He didn't want kids, I did. The sex was good, but it wasn't anything like what I've just had with John, it wasn't even close. John understands me in a way Jamie never had and he has only known me for a few months. And I need John. I've never needed Jamie, but I need _him_. It's scaring me, Amy! What if everything I have believed for the past few years has been a lie?”  
When Clara broke out in sobs again Amy gently closed her arms around her in an attempt to comfort her. “Well, in case you needed any more proof, I think you really are in love with John,” she said kindly, “And I think it's time for you to be brave and give him a chance. A _real_ chance. Once you've calmed down, of course. I don't think he'd appreciate you crying after sex.”  
Clara couldn't help but chuckle at Amy's last comment, but she was probably right about everything she had said. She couldn't be without John and now that she knew what it was like, she wanted more than just his friendship, even if it took her a while longer to finally get over Jamie.  
“Can I sleep here tonight?” Clara asked quietly.  
“Of course,” Amy replied kindly, “Of course you can.”  
“Thanks,” she mumbled and closed her eyes against her friend's shoulder.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so, so, sooooooo incredibly much for the amazing comments! You guys are making me blush, really! I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and lots of fun watching The Return of Doctor Mysterio. And now, what is Christmas without a little angst?

“How did you sleep?”  
Clara looked up from her task of folding the blankets when Amy entered the living room, yawning and still dressed in her penguin pyjamas. Clara sighed audibly. “Not so well,” she admitted and reached for her phone just to realize that there were no new messages, “Kept thinking about John. I called him this morning to apologize, but he didn't pick up.”  
“Oh well,” Amy said with a shrug, “He's probably still asleep. What do think about breakfast?”  
With another sigh Clara stared down at the phone in her hands once more. “I don't feel particularly hungry.”  
“He'll call,” her friend said and snatched the phone away from her.  
Clara raised her eyebrows at Amy. She wasn't quite so confident about that, not after she had fled his house last night. “What makes you so sure?”  
Her friend smiled. “Trust me on this. If the sex was that good, he'll call. Now let's eat something. We've both got to get to work soon.”

However John didn't call. Clara felt edgy all through her classes and even called him once more during her lunch break, but no luck. After returning to her flat Clara decided to write him a message, which she could see he had read, but there was still no reply. With a heavy heart Clara made the decision to go to bed early just to escape this limbo of unanswered calls. She would try again tomorrow. Somehow she would make it up to him – as soon as he answered her calls.

* * *

“You're not becoming one of those phone zombies, are you?” Danny asked her, “You know, the ones that would walk across the street with their eyes glued to the screen?”  
Clara tore her gaze away from her phone to look at Danny while he sat down next to her in the lunch room.  
“Sorry,” Clara mumbled in reply, “I'm just waiting for a call. It's kind of important.”  
Her eyes instantly wandered back to the phone. It had been a day and a half and still no answer. Even though she kept telling herself not to, a part of her was starting to get worried.  
“Let me guess. John,” Danny said and leaned back in his seat.  
“How do you know?” she asked him in surprise.  
He chuckled. “Uhm, cause this morning when I said hello you just walked past me, mumbling 'Come on, John, call me' to your phone.”  
“I did that?” Clara asked, gawking at him, “I'm so sorry, Danny. I didn't mean to ignore you, I just. . .”  
“You just want John to call you,” he concluded.  
“Yeah,” Clara breathed in reply, her eyes on the screen again. She had called him ten times by now and sent a couple more messages. However he had stopped reading them last night and by now she was starting to get worried about more than just their messed up relationship. Maybe he was ignoring her, but maybe. . . maybe something had happened to him.  
“I think I screwed up,” she admitted after a moment, “I think he's really mad at me and rightly so. I'm a horrible person, I don't even deserve him.”  
“Nah,” Danny said, “You're still grieving. If he loves you, he has to respect that.”  
Clara's head shot back up, unable to believe what she had just heard. “How do you know he loves me? Why did everyone know he was in love with me before I did? We hang out several times a week, we spent Christmas and New Year together, we kissed. I didn't know he was in love with me! Everyone knew but me! Why didn't I see it? Why didn't I see that I had feelings for him sooner? Maybe if I had known it wouldn't have gotten so damn complicated, so screwed up! Why didn't I know?!”  
Danny sighed. “I suspected it the moment you ditched me at the pub. Then I met you on Christmas Day and, don't deny it now, he got jealous. Clara, I hope he's good to you,” he said sincerely, “Because you deserve only the best.”  
“No,” Clara replied weakly, “I think he's more than I deserve.”  
“Go to him,” Danny told her, “If you're sure, go to him. Make him talk to you.”  
“But what if he doesn't want to see me now? You don't know what happened-”  
“A man's pride is easily hurt,” he chuckled, “Trust me, I know from experience. But the right woman can make up for that.”  
“Thanks, Danny,” she sighed, “I wouldn't have deserved you either.”  
With a smile Danny rose to his feet. “No, you really wouldn't have.”

* * *

It was pouring outside, but Clara was determined as she made her way through the rain to John's house after school. She would make him talk to her, she would apologize and she would tell him that she had feelings for him as well. After that even John couldn't shut her out, she was sure of that, not if his feelings for her were genuine. Yes, she had screwed up, just storming out of his house like that, but it was as Danny had said – her grief was still fresh and John knew that better than most. They would find a away around that, a way to make it work that wasn't immediately overwhelming her.  
She even made a little detour to the health food shop and stepped inside to buy him a little something. Last time they had had a fight John had let Clara back in at the prospect of fish 'n chips, but today she decided that it should be something sweet and picked a selection of biscuits that looked too good for anyone to refuse.  
With the sweets in her hand Clara checked her phone once more as she continued on her way, but John still hadn't seen any of the messages she had sent. By the time she found herself in front of John's house she was completely drenched.

Clara took a deep breath and stepped forward to ring the bell, then waited. And waited. She was soaked to the bones by now and freezing in the cold January air, but John didn't open the door, so Clara figured that he must be out, running errands. Impatiently she reached into the flower pot where John had told her he kept a spare key for emergencies and opened the door, determined to wait inside the house until he came back. Nothing would stop her from confessing her feelings for him today, nothing at all.

To Clara's surprise the house lay in complete darkness and the heating seemed to be turned off. She was still shivering inside, wet as she was. Then she spotted his car keys and wallet on the kitchen table and suddenly there was a strange feeling creeping up inside of her, turning her stomach into a knot. Something wasn't right.  
“John?” she called through the house, but there was no reply.  
When she stepped into the living room she found it just as deserted as the kitchen and the door to his office was left ajar – it was also empty.  
“John, are you home?” Clara asked before she opened the bedroom door and that was where she finally found him. Her heart instantly sank into her boots.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and I'm so sorry about the cliffhanger. . . haha. . . oops. . . I lied XD

The bedroom was just as dark as the rest of the house, but still Clara could make out the shape lying under the duvet. She switched on the light.  
“Oh, for fuck's sake,” John growled and instantly hid beneath the blanket, “Turn that off!”  
With a sigh Clara conceded. “John, are you okay?” she asked as she stepped closer and switched on the much softer lamp on the bedside table.  
“Go away,” he croaked, “How did you even get in?”  
Clara sank down on the bed and placed her hand on what she suspected was his shoulder. He was sick, Clara could tell, she just hoped that it wasn't anything serious. “Key in the flower pot,” she explained and carefully lifted the covers to look at him. John really was ill and the knot in her stomach only tightened. She should have come earlier. “You look terrible.”  
“It's a cold, I'll live,” he replied when Clara reached out to feel his forehead. It was burning hot. “And you're soaked. What the hell did you do? Go for swim in the Thames with your clothes on?”  
Clara chuckled. “Well, you're not too sick to snap at me, so that's good. And now that your nurse is here, you'll be back on your feet in no time.”  
John raised his eyebrows at her. “I thought I had told you to go away.”  
She smiled in reply. “Not a chance. I'll make you some tea and something to eat. I suppose you haven't eaten?” she asked, rising to her feet and already making her way to the kitchen.  
“Not hungry!” Clara heard him call from the bedroom, but she decided to ignore that. At least she would serve him the biscuits she had brought.

Once the kettle was switched on Clara decided to dry her clothes by hanging them over the tub. In the meantime she stole one of his shirts and a dry pair of socks out of the dryer. Armed with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits she walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later where John was sitting up by now and when she entered the room Clara noticed that he was trying very hard to look stern, but his eyes betrayed that he was secretly amused.  
“I believe that is my shirt,” he said, nodding in her direction.  
Clara giggled and raised her foot. “And socks.”  
“So, you're breaking into my house _and_ stealing my clothes,” John concluded while she placed the tea and biscuits on his bedside table.  
John reached for a biscuit and dunked it into the tea before stuffing it into his mouth. His face immediately distorted into a disgusted grimace. “These are vile,” he complained, dropping the biscuit back on the plate before he sank down into the pillows, pulling the duvet up to his chin again and turning on his side. He was still mad, Clara could tell, but not as mad as she would have thought. Somehow she would get through to him.  
Because it was still cold even though she had already switched the heating on and because she really wanted to Clara climbed into bed next to him. If John was surprised, he didn't show it as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and snuggled up against his body. He was having a fever, Clara could tell just by hugging him.  
“I owe you an apology,” she said softly, “I shouldn't have left the other night and I realize it must have hurt you terribly.”  
John didn't reply. He didn't even flinch.  
“I have feelings for you, too,” Clara admitted. She had to say it now, all of it. She owed him at least that. “And it's scaring me. For years I had believed that Jamie was the one and that I could never love a man like I loved him. Now I know that that's not true, but I was very good at ignoring what I felt for you. I didn't see it for what it was and I'm sorry for that. Truth is, you make me feel things I have never felt before and I never thought love would be like that. I didn't think it was this warmth I feel when you're holding me or the excitement when you kiss me or the fact that I just can't be without you. I think it will still take time until I've come to terms with losing Jamie and that is why I pulled away, because you make me feel too much, because it's confusing and new, but I want to try. I really, really want to try.”  
Clara heard as John inhaled sharply and his chest rose under the arm, but he never said a word. The silence was beginning to make her nervous.  
“John, please say something.”  
Slowly he started to move and turned around in her embrace until he finally looked at her. There were tears in his eyes.  
“I promise, I'll never run away again and from now on I'll try my very best to make it up to you,” she whispered and suddenly John bent forward. His lips were almost burning hot on her own, but his kiss told her everything she needed to know and it felt as if her heart was glowing with joy. For the first time in months it felt as if it was healing.  
Clara had a smile on her lips when John pulled away, gasping for air a little, but he, too, was smiling at her.  
“Okay, now tell your nurse where it's hurting,” Clara said and instantly heard John groan.  
“Everywhere,” he sighed and rolled on his back. Clara followed him instantly, keeping her arm wrapped tightly around him. She wasn't going to let him go ever again. “It's a cold. I have a fever and I'm sore all over. I'm tired. I just want to sleep until it passes.”  
“Then sleep,” she told him gently and rested her head on his chest, “I'll be right here if you need anything.”  
John wrapped his arms around her in return and sighed. Clara closed her eyes and decided that she might as well take a nap, too. After all, there was no better place to sleep than in his arms. His arms were where she belonged now.

* * *

At first Clara couldn't tell what had woken her up, she only noticed that she felt insanely hot and the blanket was slightly damp. Then she became aware of the movements and opened her eyes. When Clara saw him like that her first thought was that John was having a seizure. He was covered in sweat and shaking violently next to her, his breathing fast and heavy.  
“John?” she asked in panic as she sat up and instantly reached for his forehead. It was hotter than ever, his eyes closed and his face distorted as if in pain. “John, what's the matter? Talk to me!”  
“Cold,” he breathed and Clara instantly reached for the duvet to pull it further up, but soon realized that it wouldn't do any good. It was drenched in sweat.  
“John, this isn't normal,” she told him, her voice shaking. Clara simply had no idea what was wrong with him, but she was damn sure it wasn't a simple cold or flu. She had to do something. Anything.  
John shook his head. “It's the heart,” he swallowed, still panting, “I think it's being rejected.”

Clara didn't hesitate for another second before she reached for her phone and dialled 999. It wasn't going to happen, not again. John would not be taken from her. Not now. Not ever. Hastily she told the woman on the phone where they were and what was happening and she was promised that an ambulance would be there as soon as possible. Once she had hung up Clara bent down and placed a swift kiss to John's glowing forehead.  
“It's going to be fine,” she told him sternly while she squeezed his hand on her own, “I won't allow anything else.”  
“Don't leave me.” John's voice was hardly a whisper and his hand threatened to slip from her grasp.  
“Never,” Clara confirmed and exhaled sharply. The ambulance couldn't get here fast enough.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the angst. I promise I'll make it up to you, my amazing readers :) Thanks for the comments!

_This wasn't happening._

_John would be fine._

_The doctors knew what they were doing._

_He had made it this far. Noting would happen to him._

_John would be fine._

Clara kept telling herself all of these things and more while she was pacing the deserted hospital corridor. Even though it was in the middle of the night and she was exhausted Clara couldn't rest, she couldn't sit down, not while they were still running tests. She needed to know that he would be okay.

_Not again. It wasn't going to happen again. She would not lose John._

“Clara?”  
She shot around when a familiar voice called her name and to Clara's great relief she spotted Rory, who was obviously working the night shift. The young man approached her at a quick pace.  
“Rory, hey,” she breathed in relief. Clara didn't know him so well yet, but the familiar face calmed her just a little. She would have called Amy just to have someone to talk to hadn't it been for the late hour.  
“You're here with John Smith, I assume? Amy said you guys were sort of seeing each other,” he said and the frown on his forehead gave away just how confused he was about that. But Clara didn't have time for his questions. She needed to know.  
“Yes,” she blurted out immediately and couldn't help the sound of panic in her voice, “How is he? Will he be okay?”

_He just had to be._

Rory smiled at her. “He'll be fine,” he reassured her and Clara immediately sighed in relief, “You should talk to Dr Jones about the details. She's with him right now, discussing the results of the tests. She'll be out in a few minutes.”  
“Oh, thank God,” she breathed. He was going to be okay, that was all that mattered.  
“Clara,” Rory said sternly, still frowning at her, “What are you doing with the old grump?”  
She opened her mouth to speak and explain it all, but hesitated. How could she possibly explain even the events of the last few days in just a few sentences? “It's complicated,” she said and right as she had said those words a door next to her opened and a young doctor stepped out.  
“Doctor Jones?” Clara asked and instantly approached her, “How is John?”  
The doctor raised her eyebrows. “You're not family.”  
Clara inhaled sharply. “No, but we're close. Please, tell me what happened,” she almost begged her and still the young woman seemed reluctantly, “Please.”  
She watched as Rory nodded in the doctor's direction before he excused himself. Then finally Dr Jones looked at her.  
“It was an acute cellular rejection,” she explained calmly.  
_Rejection._  
“Okay, that sounds bad,” Clara's voice sounded panicked again, “That's bad, isn't it?”  
Dr Jones shook her head. “No, he's going to be fine. It's very common after a transplant and it usually happens within the first months. That's what the regular check-ups are for, to catch it at an early stage. We're going to see how he will respond to the treatment, but so far it's looking good. He should have come earlier, but it's going to be fine.”  
Clara nodded. It was going to be fine. That was all she had wanted to hear.  
“We will keep him here for observation for a few days, but I'm sure that he will make a speedy recovery. His body has dealt with the transplant very well so far and he's a model patient when it comes to his diet and exercise. He will be fine.”  
“Can I see him?” Clara couldn't help but ask. She just wanted to see him right now and tell him she wouldn't leave his side until he had recovered.  
“He's resting. And that's what you should be doing, too,” Dr Jones said.  
“Please, just for a moment.”  
With a sigh Martha nodded and pointed to the door. Clara thanked her with a smile.

* * *

John hated hospitals with a passion and he couldn't wait to get out of this place again. A couple of days, that was what Dr Jones had told him a few minutes ago. Well, that was a couple of days more than he would have liked. Not to mention that he would spend them with the man in the bed next to him that they had woken up when they had put John into this room and now that he was awake he just wouldn't shut up. John would have gotten out of bed just to punch him if it hadn't been for the machines they had wired him up to.  
“. . . and then they cut me open right here-”  
Then suddenly there was another knock on the door, interrupting the man mid-sentence, and Clara stepped aside, granting him a shy smile.  
“Hey, are you sleeping?” she asked carefully.  
“I wish,” John growled and nodded in the direction of the other patient, but nevertheless his spirits lifted as soon as he saw her smile. John hadn't though she would still be here and the fact that she was made his heart leap with joy. He had been feeling so miserable that he hadn't really registered what had happened a few hours earlier. Clara had confessed her feelings for him. She had said that.  
“How are you feeling?” Clara asked gently as she sat down on his bed and reached for his hand, squeezing it in her own. Somehow John thought that her touch was all the medicine he needed to get better.  
He smiled back at her. “A little better. Dr Jones is optimistic I'll be out of here in a few days.”  
“You better,” she warned him, “You gave me quite a scare.”  
“Sorry,” John gave her an apologetic smile, “Wasn't exactly planned. But why are you still here? You must be exhausted.”  
“Well, I couldn't leave you here, could I? I had to know what was going on,” she argued and her grip around his hand tightened just a little.  
John sighed. He loved the fact that she was here and a part of him didn't want her to leave at all, not now, not when he knew she had feelings for him. Oh, how he wished he could be at home with her right now, holding her, kissing her. John couldn't wait to kiss her again. “You should get some rest.”  
Clara raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you don't want me to stay?”  
John laughed softly. Oh, that would be great. Selfish, but great. “Go home,” he told her in an attempt to sound strict, “Sleep. I'll still be here tomorrow.”  
“Fine,” she growled, “But I will come back tomorrow. Text me if there's anything you need me to bring you.”  
“I will,” he agreed.

Clara bent forward, but then suddenly paused right in front of him as if she wasn't sure about going ahead or not. John could see the hesitation in her eyes. Then she seemed to make a decision and leaned in until their lips met and before John closed his eyes he could see that the man in the bed next to him gave him a thumb up. John raised his own hand and flipped him off behind Clara's back before he laid his arm around her and pulled her closer. For some reasons he thought that Clara's lips tasted even sweeter than before, his heart was doing somersaults at her touch and he knew. He knew that he wouldn't ever want to kiss another woman in his life if he just found a way to hold her. He just had to find a way to hold her this time.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes my apology for the previous angst ;) Enjoy! And thank you for the sweet comments!

On the first day John went insane, stuck in a room with a person who talked continuously. On the second day John was no longer stuck in a room with a person who talked continuously, thanks to a little rant that had scared the other man off, and yet he was still going mad. Screw the doctors who wanted to keep him in the hospital for observation, he had a life to get back to. He had _Clara_ to get back to. Even though she visited him and they spent half the visiting hours with their lips glued together, it wasn't enough because every time his hand slipped under her shirt a nurse would barge in. They could smell it, John was sure of that, and it frustrated him to no end. On the third day John was determined that nothing would come between them.  
Clara was already half on top of him, her hand on his thigh making him wish it would just slide up a little further to where he was already half hard in his pyjama bottoms. His lips already felt a little sore, but her kiss was just too sweet to stop now even though he was running out of breath. It was rousing all those pleasant memories from the evening they had spent together and a week had passed since. John was more than desperate to repeat it, desperate for her touch, for her bare skin on his own. The memory of it alone was enough to drive him crazy. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, he reached for Clara's hand and pulled it up where it was most needed. He moaned into her mouth right before he bit down on her lip.  
Clara giggled as she pulled away. “Excited?”  
John groaned. “Not really the begging type but-” he breathed, pausing just to placed another kiss on her mouth, “If you could fuck me right now that would be just terrific.”  
She laughed even more. “We're in a hospital, John.”  
He pulled her down until their lips clashed again and that was when the door burst open without a knock.  
“Whoah, get the fuck out of here!” he shouted and turned around to see Dr Martha Jones in the doorway, sniggering.  
“Sorry to interrupt your little rendezvous, but I have good news and I thought you might want to hear them right away,” she explained.  
With a groan John sank back into the bed. “These news better be that I'm discharged immediately or I swear to God I will-”  
He stopped mid-sentence when Clara cleared her throat, reminding him to be nice.  
“Quite right,” Dr Jones confirmed, “We've reviewed your recent test results and you can go home.”  
“Perfect,” John said while he already jumped out of bed and reached under it to pull his bag out. He instantly started stuffing his belongings into it, not caring that he was causing a chaos inside. “What are you waiting for, Clara? Get my toothbrush and let's go.”  
“Not so fast,” Dr Jones' voice made him stop, “Before you leave I just want to tell you a couple of things.”  
“Well, spit it out then. I'm sure you've got other patients to see to.”  
“John,” Clara whispered next to him right before he felt her hand on his arm. The same hand that reached for his cock earlier. Damn, why couldn't they just go home and continue where they had left off?  
“The results are looking really good and I can tell that you feel better,” Martha Jones told him with a hint of a smile, “But you should take it easy the next two weeks. No heavy exercise, just a bit of walking, and stick to your diet. If you feel dizzy or abnormally tired or other flu like symptoms, call us immediately. Another rejection could happen any time and it's quite normal, but it should be treated instantly. Got that?”  
“Got it,” John confirmed and raised his eyebrows, “Can I go now?”  
Dr Jones granted him a smile. “You can go now. Just sign these discharge papers and leave them on the table.”  
“Great!” he exclaimed and instantly continued packing his bag, only vaguely aware that Clara was laughing and shaking her head next to him while she helped him pack.

* * *

“Would you like me to make something to eat or a cup of tea or _uhhh_ -” Clara squealed in surprise when John got hold of her hand and pulled her up against his body. They had managed to make it as far as the kitchen before John decided that he had waited long enough, so he dropped his bag and kissed her. They were home now, nothing would come between them.  
“John,” Clara gasped for air when she broke the kiss, giggling, “Take it easy. The doctor said no exercise.”  
“That's not-,” John gave a low grunt when he lifted her up on the kitchen table and Clara automatically wrapped her legs around him. “That's not what she meant.”  
Still she raised her eyebrows at him while John shuffled just a little closer. A week. It had been a week. And that was way too long.  
Finally Clara cracked a smile. “Well, I suppose I could help with the heavy lifting,” she suggested with a shrug.  
A wide grin spread over John's face as he bent down to kiss her again, her tongue scraping over his own in the most delicious way and it still wasn't enough. He wanted her lips all over his body, he wanted to touch her, pleasure her, be inside her.

Then the door bell rang.

No, not this time. He wasn't going to let anything get between them.  
“John,” Clara mumbled against his lips, “Aren't you going to answer?”  
“No way,” he said and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. Yet when he didn't open the door John soon heard a key being inserted into the lock and when Missy's voice rang through the house he swiftly pulled away from Clara. One of these days he would take the key away from her.  
“I just wanted to stop by to pick up the first chapters of your book. And to see how you're doing of course,” Missy said as she stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Clara. She turned towards John. “It appears there is a strange woman sitting on your kitchen table.”  
Clara instantly jumped down, straightening her skirt, and looked a little like she had been caught in the act. And technically they had.  
John cleared his throat. “Missy, that's Clara. Clara, this is Missy, the publisher with the worst timing ever,” he rolled his eyes in annoyance. He just wanted to be alone with Clara, just for an hour or two. Was that really too much to ask?  
“Well, I won't disturb you for long, seeing as you're obviously feeling better. Just picking up your work and then I'll be on my way,” she promised.  
“It's on the flash drive next to my laptop. It's in the office.”  
“Great,” Missy beamed at him, “I'll leave you to it then.”

John exhaled sharply when Missy finally closed the front door behind her after a few minutes and then turned back towards Clara.  
“I'm sorry about that,” he apologized with a sigh, “Missy has a talent for ruining the mood.”  
Clara simply shrugged and granted him a smile. “We could try to get back in the mood?”  
Before John knew what was happening Clara had raised her hands to her blouse and started undoing the first buttons. When he caught the first glimpse of her lace underwear he instantly stepped forward, his cock twitching with excitement at the pure thought of it. Without hesitation he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her up for a kiss.  
“Did I ever mention that you're the greatest thing in this world?” he asked, chuckling.  
“Not yet,” Clara giggled, looking right at him. Oh, those dark, brown eyes. He should have known from the beginning. “But it's nice to hear.”  
Just as he was about to kiss her again the phone rang in his pocket.  
“No,” John growled, “No. No. No.”  
“Who is it?” Clara asked with a sigh.  
He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the name. Jenny. Of course it had to be them. Everyone else he knew had already interrupted them today.  
“Suggestion,” she grinned at him, biting down on her lip, “You answer it and for every minute you're on the phone I take off one piece of clothing.”  
John considered it for a moment. “Okay, well, that. . . that seems fair.”

He stepped back to take the call. “Hello Jenny, what's up?” John asked, but his eyes were glued to Clara, who continued to unbutton her blouse. He swallowed hard when he saw the outline of her breasts in her bra.  
“Hey John, I've got some really good news,” Jenny announced, but he hardly heard it, not while Clara had her back turned to him, unzipping her skirt.  
“Great,” he replied a little breathlessly, “What is it?”  
The lace of her knickers was the same colour as that of her bra. Light blue. Transparent. Covering just enough of her arse to rouse his excitement even more. Had she looked this perfect a week ago?  
“I got an appointment at the private fertility clinic in London. It's in two days! This is really amazing because there is a months long waiting list, but someone else cancelled their appointment and they offered it to me. Isn't that great?”  
“Yeah,” he breathed, “That. . . that's good. . . good news.”  
John couldn't think straight. Clara was right in front of him, dressed only in her underwear, and before he could react she approached him, grabbing him by the belt to pull him closer.  
“Take it off,” he mouthed and with a grin Clara complied, unhooking his belt and reaching into his trousers. Damn, her touch felt insanely good.  
“Sorry, what was that?” Jenny asked in confusion.  
“Uhm. . . nothing,” John had to refrain from moaning out loud when she squeezed him a little harder, “Just. . . uhm. . . just talking to myself. Go on.”  
“I just wanted to know whether you're up to it. You know. . . what we discussed,” Jenny asked carefully and when Clara dipped her hand past the waistband of his underwear he hissed at the contact of skin. It felt was if his brain was drained of blood in an instant. There was no room for anything except Clara and what she was doing to him right now.  
“John, are you alright?” Jenny inquired over the phone.  
“Yes,” he half moaned, though whether it was in reply to Clara or Jenny even John couldn't say, “Yes, I'm up to it.”  
Of course he was up to it. His hard member in Clara's hand was proof it that.  
“Great,” Jenny said excitedly. Good, now that that was cleared up she would probably hang up soon and he needed her to. Otherwise it would be damn hard to concentrate on what she was saying while he already started rocking into Clara's palm. John knew he should probably slow it down, but there was no way. It felt too good. “Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little out of breath.”  
“Fine,” he panted, “Just. . . uhm. . . busy in the kitchen.”  
Clara giggled next to him and ran her thumb over his tip. Damn, he needed to get rid of Jenny.  
“Okay, well, my appointment is at 9. You can come in earlier if you like,” Jenny explained, “Oh, and one more thing. They said you shouldn't have sex for three days before the appointment.”  
“ _What?!_ ”  
John couldn't help but step away from Clara immediately. He must have heard Jenny wrong. There was no way that was what she had said.  
“Yeah, it's to make sure the sperm count is as high as possible. It improves the chances of success.”  
“That's a fucking joke, right?” John spat while Clara stared at him, not knowing what was going on, “Please say that was a joke.”  
It had to be.  
“That's not a problem, is it?” she asked carefully, “I mean, we can make another appointment in eight months, but this is my chance, John.”  
With a heavy sigh John sank back against the counter, his erection throbbing in his trousers while he looked at Clara's half naked figure. In another life he had been selfish and carefree. It would have been so easy to say no back then.  
“Are you sure they said three days? It wasn't three hours, was it?” he asked in defeat.  
“Uhm, I'm very sure,” she replied and suddenly her voice took on a curious tone, “Why? Is there something you're not telling us?”  
“Text me the address,” John sighed, “I'll be there.”  
He hung up and dropped the phone on the counter with a groan.  
“Something tells me the sex is off the table,” Clara commented, giving him those big eyes.  
“Damn right,” he growled. He had been so close.  
Clara shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Tea then?”  
With another sigh John nodded. It was going to be two very, very long days.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments. Poor John, huh?

John was still holding on to her hand as they stepped into the fertility clinic as if he was afraid to let go. He was nervous and edgy and Clara wouldn't have to be in school until the fourth period, so she had suggested to accompany him. John had agreed immediately.  
“And you're sure you're okay with this?” he suddenly asked her, “I mean, I'm going to be the father of someone else's kid.”  
Clara looked up at him, frowning. “I was the one who told you to do it, remember?”  
“Yeah, but that was before you. . . and me and. . . you know,” he sighed, his gaze dropping to his feet, “I wasn't sure whether you were still okay with it.”  
“I am,” Clara confirmed and took another look around while John went ahead to the reception. The clinic seemed nice and bright, but very sterile. She couldn't imagine how on earth someone would get in the mood in here. Somehow John would have to manage. He had been celibate and very moody about it the last couple of days. Once this was over Clara vowed to make it up to him and a smile spread across her face at the thought of it.

Clara took one of the laid out magazines and sat down in the waiting area while they interviewed John. It wouldn't be as complicated as applying to donate sperm to a stranger because they already had Jenny's and Vastra's approval and his complete medical records, but it still took them half an hour before John stepped out again, a plastic cup in his hand and an utterly terrified look on his face. Clara threw the magazine aside and walked up to him.  
“Are you okay?” she asked him, trying very hard not to laugh.  
“Of course I'm okay,” he spat, “Why wouldn't I be?”  
Now she laughed for real. “Because you look like a startled owl. A cute look,” she admitted, “But unnecessary. You've done this before and I'm fairly certain it doesn't hurt.”  
But instead of being relieved John still had that look of terror on his face.  
“Okay, what's wrong?” Clara asked, putting her arms akimbo.  
John took a deep breath, shuffling his feet nervously and avoiding her gaze. “I'm about to help make a baby,” he blurted out, “In a sterile room with a plastic cup. I'm going to be a father and I had never thought that would happen, especially not like this.”  
“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked him kindly, “If you are, then wait and think about it one more time. I'm sure Vastra and Jenny will understand.”  
“It's not that,” John confessed, “I'm not sure if I'm going to be a good father or uncle or whatever they have in mind for me. I'm not nervous about this,” he held up the cup, “I'm nervous about what comes after.”  
“Well, luckily you're not alone,” Clara tried to cheer him up, “You've got Vastra and Jenny and you've got me.”  
Clara granted him a smile and for the first time she thought she saw a spark of hope in his eyes. “This baby is going to have the loveliest, craziest family it could wish for,” she reassured him.  
After a moment she heard him sigh and finally John nodded.  
“Would you like me to go in with you?” she suggested out of the blue. But she was here now, she might as well do it with him.  
John frowned at her. “I'm not sure that's allowed.”  
She looked around and eventually smiled. “I don't see anyone stopping us.”

* * *

John slumped back against the sofa, panting heavily while Clara's hand was still wrapped around his member that was pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. She was so good at what she was doing and it took him a moment to come down while he was only faintly aware that in the meantime she closed the lid of the plastic container and put it aside before her head was snuggled against his chest.  
“Can we do that in the bedroom next time?” John asked, his breathing still a little ragged. His entire body felt so heavy, he needed to rest for a moment.  
“Absolutely,” Clara giggled, nestling her cheek against the fabric of his shirt, “Are you still scared?”  
“Less so,” he said and placed a swift kiss on her hair before he chuckled, “Bit hard to feel scared while you're floating on cloud nine.”  
“Cloud nine, huh?” Clara giggled while she began to straddle his lap, smiling down at him.  
“Yeah, and you put me there, Clara Oswald,” he admitted and just looking into her lovely face made his heart beat faster. She was wonderful, especially when she bent down and locked their lips in a long, soft kiss.  
“So,” she said when she pulled away, “Clean up and leave? I'm sure there's still time for a cup of coffee before I have to teach some pudding brains.”  
John chuckled. “Pudding brains? You're starting to sound like me.” He wasn't sure whether he liked Clara picking up his insults or not, but he certainly found it amusing. 

On their way out of the clinic John noticed that it was almost 9 am and of course he spotted two familiar shapes coming in through the entrance. Vastra and Jenny looked about as nervous as he had felt earlier, but he knew they would be fine. They had each other, just like he had Clara.  
“Well, hello there,” Vastra greeted them both with a bright smile and John couldn't help but notice the surprise on her face when she spotted Clara here with him.  
“Nice to see you again,” Jenny hugged Clara as a greeting while John kept his distance. If there was going to be hugging, it was better to stay out of the way.  
“Nice to see you, too,” Clara smiled, “And good luck.”  
“Yeah,” John added, “Good luck. Pray the kid gets your nose.”  
“Why?” Clara turned to look at him, “What's wrong with your nose? I like your nose.”  
“Sorry, but I have to ask,” Jenny interrupted them cautiously, “Are you here _together_?”  
John heard Clara giggle as she wrapped her arms around his. “Yeah. I'm his girlfriend.”  
His head shot around. “You are?” He had wished to hear these words from her, but he wouldn't have thought he would hear them so soon and spoken with an almost childlike joy. Even though they had somehow acted like a couple these past few days John hadn't thought she would want to make it official so soon and the fact that she had just done that made him incredibly happy.  
“Yes, I am,” Clara smiled up at him, “Didn't you know?”  
“I think we will leave you to this discussion and focus on making a baby,” Vastra told them, but not without a hint of a smirk on her face before she and Jenny stepped further into the clinic.

When they had settled in a quiet café around the corner and John took a sip from his tea, he felt the urge to ask her once more about their relationship status, yet he had no idea how to bring it up.  
Then, eventually, Clara took a deep breath. “I've been thinking about something,” she said, “Something you've said to me a while ago. I think I want children.”  
John opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find the words. Of all the topics this was the one he had least expected and he had no idea what to say. Clara wanted children and she was telling him about it. Why was she telling him about it? Right, they were a couple now.  
“Obviously not right now,” Clara added, sounding a little nervous, “But some day. I thought about it since you asked me whether Jamie and I had had plans like that and I don't think he would've made a very good father. If he had agreed to children at all. What do you think about it? In general? I know you hadn't considered it before, but you must have thought about it since Vastra's and Jenny's suggestion.”  
Still John didn't feel quite ready to reply. Clara was right, he _had_ thought about it now. He just hadn't thought he would ever find a woman he would actually consider having children with. But Clara was his girlfriend now, wasn't she?  
John took a moment to picture it and for some reason the imagine of a young girl popped into his head. Tiny. Funny nose. Large eyes. Brown, curly hair. If he focused long enough he could even hear her laugh. The mental imagine alone seemed to warm his heart, but what if he couldn't do it?  
“Could we wait and see how Jenny's kid turns out?” John asked sheepishly, “I'm not sure I'm ready to answer that question just yet.”  
Clara laughed in reply. “Absolutely.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the sweet comments! I hope you'll have a wonderful start to the new year (or had already)!

“Tell me again why I have agreed to this,” John grumbled next to her as they were approaching the pub. The weather was cool tonight and Clara hooked her arm around his to get a little more of his body heat.  
“Because I agreed to come to your weird publishing company ball thing,” Clara explained. That hadn't been a condition, but since they had been seeing each other for a few weeks now and Amy was starting to grow curious Clara had decided that it was time for John to meet her friend.  
“It's not a weird thing, it's just the annual ball and it isn't even that fancy,” John argued angrily, “And I don't wanna go there either. but Missy is forcing me and I'd rather be stuck there with you than stuck there on my own.”  
Clara chuckled. “When you invited me, you said _weird ball thing_ , so I'm sticking with that until I've seen what it's actually like.”  
John sighed when they came to a halt in front of the pub door. “So, how much of a good impression do you need me to make on your friends tonight?”  
“Only the best,” Clara told him with a smile before she stepped inside. 

Amy and Rory were already sitting at a small table in the corner when Clara approached them, John following her only reluctantly.  
“Hello there,” Amy greeted them cheerfully, “Come and sit.”  
“Oh, you're Scottish,” John noticed while they took a seat and Clara could tell that he was delighted, “Clara, you should have mentioned your friend was Scottish and wait-”  
He stopped when his eyes landed on Rory and slowly John pointed at him. “I know you.”  
“Yep,” Rory nodded, “We met when you threw your food tray back at me.”  
Clara turned towards him. “You did what?” she asked, “Please tell me there was no food on it.”  
“Oh, but there was,” Rory hummed.  
John snorted. “Well, I'd apologize, but you haven't apologized for the food either.”  
“It was the same food all the other patients received and yet the only tray that was thrown at me was yours,” Rory argued.  
“Says a lot about the state of their taste buds,” John rolled his eyes.  
“We should probably change the topic now,” Clara suggested and watched her friend Amy nod in agreement, although the smile on her face gave away that she was enjoying the drama a little too much.  
“Good idea,” Rory agreed, “I'll get us drinks.”  
As soon as Rory had risen from the table Clara turned towards John, glaring at him.  
“Why did you throw your food at him?” she demanded to know.  
“I, uhm,” he paused, giving her an apologetic look, “It was after the surgery. I was bored and hungry and not in the mood for pulp.”  
With a sigh Clara leaned back in her chair. At least he hadn't insulted Amy yet.  
A few minutes later Rory came back, carrying four large pints and setting them down on the table.  
“Thanks,” Amy said and reached for the first glass.  
“Oh, no, thanks,” John said when Rory pushed a pint in his direction, “I'm not allowed to drink.”  
“You're allowed in moderation,” Rory shrugged and sat back down, “I was there when Dr Jones told you.”  
Clara saw that John was hesitant to take the glass and somehow she really didn't like that smirk on Rory's face.  
“Yes, that's what she said,” John confirmed drily after a moment.  
“Well, go on then,” Rory nodded towards the beer, “Unless, of course, you don't feel up to it. Stick to water and let Amy make fun of you.”  
Finally John reached for the glass, but Clara knew him well enough by now to tell that he didn't quite feel comfortable drinking it and by now she thought she had figured out why. But she was determined not to stop him. It might be a lesson for him to be a little nicer to Rory.  
Instead she took a sip from her own drink. “Uh, you picked the strong kind.”  
“He picked my favourite,” Amy replied lovingly and pecked Rory on the cheek before she turned her attention towards John. “So, where are you from?”  
“Born and raised in Glasgow. Moved to London as soon as I could. You?”  
Amy shrugged. “Small town. You wouldn't know it, but same. Moved to London when I turned 18.”  
She hesitated for a moment and then looked right at Clara. “What are you doing the first Saturday in March?”  
Clara frowned at her friend in reply. “I haven't got plans yet. Why?”  
A smile spread all over Amy's face as she took Rory's hand. “We're about to move in together and we figured that by March we'd be ready to host a little housewarming party.”  
“Oh that's wonderful news!” Clara said excitedly.  
“Bit soon, isn't it? How long have you known each other?”  
Clara gave John a soft nudge in the ribs, almost causing him to spill his drink. “I spend almost every night at your place and we have only been together for weeks. That's almost like living together, too.”  
“Not the same thing,” John argued grudgingly and took another careful sip.

Clara sighed and decided to ignore him and his comments. Technically it was her own fault for bringing him here when she knew he wasn't good with strangers. Instead she decided to talk to Amy and Rory about where their new place was and what it looked like and offered to help with the move. John fell quiet next to her, which was probably a good thing, and Clara scooted a little closer to him as the evening went on and eventually leaned her head against his arm.  
“Are you bored?” she asked him after a while.  
“No,” he replied, an obvious lie, while he was still clinging to his first glass of beer that wasn't even empty yet when everyone else had already ordered a new one.  
“Anyone for another beer?” Rory asked as he rose to his feet.  
“Sure,” Amy agreed, handing him her empty glass.  
“None for me, thanks,” Clara said, nestling her cheek against John's sleeve.  
“How about you, John?” Rory grinned at him.  
“No, I'm good,” he mumbled in reply.  
“Are you sure?” Rory chuckled teasingly, “Then again, you do look a bit pale. Maybe it was a bit much for you.”  
“Just shut up,” John growled, drawling a little and finally Clara looked up at him to see that Rory was right. He didn't look well at all.  
“Are you okay?” she asked him, reaching for his hand, “Do you want to go home?”  
Rory laughed as he collected the empty glasses from the table. “Yeah, take him home, Clara. The old man obviously can't hold his drink,” he said, still laughing as he made his way to the bar.

“That wasn't nice of him,” John complained groggily once they had stepped out of the pub. Clara hooked her arm around him when they started walking as he seemed a little unsteady on his feet.  
“Well, you weren't exactly nice either. Can't blame him for a little revenge,” Clara argued, “You should have said it makes you unwell.”  
“No, he would have laughed.”  
“He's laughing now cause you're drunk after one beer,” Clara chuckled.  
“I'm not drunk,” John spat, “Just dizzy and very, very sick. Alcohol and meds don't really mix and I can feel tomorrow's headache already.”  
“You're very, very stubborn, you mean?” she stopped to look at him, giving him her best smile, but apparently that didn't help him feel any better. John still looked as if he was about to throw up any moment. Clara sighed. “I still love you though.”  
Finally his eyes lit up a little. “I love you, too.”  
She chuckled when she grabbed his arm again and they continued to walk home. “Now, promise me you'll be nicer to them at the housewarming party or I swear I will misbehave at your publishing company ball.”  
“They didn't invite me, did they?”  
“They did,” Clara confirmed, “And even if they hadn't, I'd still bring you as my plus one.”  
“Oh man,” John sighed heavily while Clara dragged him along.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the comments :) Mhhh, what is it that I smell? Is that angst?

Clara laughed heartily when John twirled her around before his hand came to rest on her waist again. He was leading her over the dance floor with a grace she hadn't actually expected of him. And above all, he had gone all out tonight to look really handsome. A suit, a tie and a pair of shoes Clara didn't even dare to step on. But that didn't matter because as soon as the ball was over Clara was determined to take it all off him.  
“You're full of surprises, do you know that?” she asked, still smiling at him.  
“So you don't regret coming here with me?” he raised his eyebrows hopefully.  
Clara shook her head. The ball was lovely, and so was John. It seemed as if he was making an extra effort after the little disaster with her friends the other night.  
They had already talked to Missy for a while, who Clara thought seemed quite demanding and strict and maybe a little bit crazy, but she had quickly brushed the thought about her aside when John had suggested to have a look at the buffet.  
“I'm gonna go and powder my nose,” Clara said once the song had ended, but when she tried to walk away she found that John still held on to her hand, pulling her back until he was close enough to bend down and kiss her.  
“You look lovely in that dress,” John told her with a smile.  
Clara shrugged, but couldn't hide the big grin that spread across her face. He really was making an effort. “I look lovely in everything.”  
“Egomaniac,” John growled, but he was still smirking and Clara knew exactly that he found her appealing no matter what.  
“I'll be back before you know it,” she promised him.  
“You better. Before someone comes and asks me about my book,” she heard him say as she headed in the direction of the bathrooms. 

Clara was checking her reflection in the mirror, still happy with what she saw, when a woman joined her at the sink and in the mirror Clara couldn't help but notice the look she threw her and for a moment she had no idea what to think. That look was one of pure disdain and Clara had no idea what she had done to deserve that.  
She turned around, glancing at the woman next to her, only to earn a look far worse.  
“Excuse me, is something bothering you?” Clara couldn't help but ask.  
The other woman scoffed. “Not at all,” she replied and turned her attention towards the task of washing her hands, but the tone in her voice told Clara that there was something bothering her indeed. For a moment she considered ignoring it, but she couldn't.  
“See, I think something _is_ bothering you and I don't know you, so you don't know me, so you have no reason to look at me like you just did,” Clara said while the woman rolled her eyes, “And you just did it again. So, what's your problem?”  
“As if you don't know. You're here with John Smith,” she replied, her voice dismissive, “Everyone knows what you are.”  
“ _What I am?!_ ” Clara genuinely didn't know what she was talking about, but she had the feeling that she would find out any minute now as the woman's resentment seemed to grow.  
“Listen, honey,” she said, “I don't care what John does in his spare time or who he does it with. He's a great writer, that's all I need to know about him. But I had really hoped that after his illness he would stop bringing women like you to company events. The call girl he brought a couple of years ago was an embarrassment.”  
Clara's mouth fell open and for a moment she had no idea what to say. When the woman turned around to leave, Clara finally found her voice again. “I am his girlfriend! I am Clara Oswald and I am certainly not a hooker!”  
The woman already had her hand on the door handle, but at her words she let go and turned back around. That disdainful look on her face was suddenly replace by one of. . . awe?  
“I am so sorry,” she uttered and quickly outstretched her hand. Clara decided not to shake it and instead crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I had no idea.”  
At this moment the bathroom door opened and another woman stepped inside.  
“Caroline,” the first woman said excitedly, “Have you met Clara Oswald yet?”  
The face of the woman named Caroline lit up instantly and Clara had no idea why. Somehow these women seemed to be familiar with her name, but they didn't know that she was John's girlfriend. Something was off, Clara was sure.  
“It's such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Oswald,” the woman named Caroline shook her hand, “I'm Caroline Cortez, I translate John's books into Spanish and French. And I must say his latest novel sounds more than promising. I can't wait for the rest to end up on my desk.”  
Clara felt more than a little confused and she had no idea what to respond to the women who were now gawking at her in awe as if she was royalty. She needed to get out. She needed to talk to John.  
“Excuse me,” she said and hurried past them out of the bathroom.

* * *

John's face lit up when he saw Clara emerge from the bathroom, but for some reason she didn't seem as happy to see him. As she approached him John could clearly see that not everything was alright and that for some reason Clara was very, very angry.  
“Clara, are you okay?” he asked her instantly when she came to a halt in front of him.  
“Why did your colleagues just take me for a prostitute?!” Clara demanded angrily and John's heart sank. He hadn't told her. Oh damn, he should have told her. “John, answer me! Why did they think I was a hooker? And how do they know my name?”  
“I'm sorry,” he uttered quietly, “I should have warned you, I-”  
A soft punch hit his arm and John flinched at the impact. “Damn right you should have told me! I had suspected you had some skeletons in your closet, but bringing prostitutes to a company event? I hadn't expected that!”  
John took a deep breath and glanced around the room. A couple of people were already staring at them. “I think we should discuss this elsewhere,” he suggested carefully.  
“Oh, yes, we are going to discuss this elsewhere,” Clara spat and reached for her coat, “Because I'm not staying here where everyone thinks you've paid for me!”

Without further warning Clara rushed towards the exit and John had no other choice but to grab his own coat from his chair and follow her. She was so fast for her small feet that he only managed to catch up with her once they were already outside of the building.  
“Clara, wait!” he called out for her and finally managed to grab her hand, pulling her back towards him, “At least let me explain.”  
Clara struggled free from his grasp, but remained exactly where she was, glaring at him. “Go on then, explain. I'm curious. Why did they think I was a hooker?”  
John inhaled sharply. He hated to admit this to Clara, especially since it had happened years ago and he had changed. “Clara, you need to understand that that was before my illness, before I changed. I'm not that man anymore, but yes, I paid women for sex and I brought them to the ball as my date.”  
Her face turned into a frown. “Why?” she asked, “You are not the type, John, you're smart and good looking and who wouldn't want to date a successful author? Why call girls?”  
“Because I didn't want to date anyone!” he spat back at her without wanting to, “I didn't want to fall in love, I didn't want the emotional mess, I just needed a date to the ball and someone who would shut up while I fucked her!”  
Clara looked more than a little taken aback by his statement, but she didn't make another attempt to run away. John sighed heavily.  
“I never wanted to get married. River made me and guess what? Suddenly I didn't mind. Suddenly I liked being a husband. And then she died and it felt like I had lost a part of myself and even though I couldn't remember her face after so many years, I still remembered the pain and I never forgave her for that. I got over her, but not over losing her. I never wanted to feel that loss ever again. I'm just a man, Clara, I wanted the sex, but I didn't want to fall in love again.”  
John let his shoulder sink in defeat when he saw that look on Clara's face while she was trying to understand, while she finally understood for the first time. Her eyes widened.  
“Yes, that's right,” he admitted, his voice weak, “I fell in love with you. I didn't want to, but I did. And I know that when you leave it's going to break me. The memory of you will hurt so much that I won't be able to breathe.”  
Suddenly Clara stepped forward and reached for his hand. “Who says I'll leave?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.  
John snorted. “Are you really going to stay with an old, grumpy man like me? Not likely.”  
Clara granted him a soft, unexpected smile. “I think that decision is up to me,” she said and tugged at his hand, “Come on, let's go home.”  
John didn't have the strength to protest, so he simply let Clara pull him to the nearest taxi.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments. Now, let's see what those two get up to. . . and whether it might get angsty?

John hadn't said a single word on the way home and by the time the front door closed behind them Clara had had enough of the silence that had spread between them. Yes, it had taken her a while to admit to her feelings and yes, she still thought about Jamie, but Clara had made a decision.  
“John,” she said when he started to take off his tie, “I'm 30 years old.”  
He stopped his movements and stared at her, obviously not understanding what she was talking about.  
“Yeah, I know,” he replied, an eyebrow raised at her, “I bought you a piece of cake on your birthday when we went to that café.”  
“No,” she almost interrupted him, “That's not what I meant. What I meant was that I am 30 years old and I'm done experimenting. I think I'm looking to settle down. I thought that was what Jamie and I had been doing, but that wasn't it. We didn't even live together and we had no intention to change that. But I want that. I want to settle down one day, with the man I love. I want a house and children and I'm trying to determine whether you could be that man.”  
John blinked, his eyes still fixed on her. “It's only been two months,” he argued, “And I'm not sure about children.”  
“I know,” Clara replied, “But I don't want to waste any more time. If I didn't at least think it could work, I wouldn't be here. I'm not leaving because I think you are exactly what I need and I think you feel the same way.”  
“Clara, I'm-”  
“Shut up,” she said and stepped towards him, resting her hands on his chest, “I've known you for five months and so far I haven't seen anything I couldn't handle. How about you?”  
John chuckled. “Clara Oswald, you are the best thing on this entire planet.”  
“Finally we agree,” she said and her lips curled into a smile.

Clara squealed in surprise when John suddenly picked her up and in response she wrapped her legs around his waist while he carried her to the bedroom, covering her mouth with kisses. He only set her down when he stopped in front of the bed, but his mouth never left her, instead he started to cover her neck with kisses, that exact spot that always made her shiver in excitement. That was the thing about John. He touched her as if he knew her, as if he had known her for years.  
Suddenly John started to giggle, his hands giving up on his attempt to open her dress. “Seriously, who invented this?” he asked, “I'm gonna have more luck with a pair of scissors.”  
“Don't you dare,” she threatened him playfully and reached behind her back to unhook the dress at her neck. Carefully he peeled her out of the thin piece of fabric and Clara didn't fail to notice that look of awe on his face whenever he saw her undress. She didn't think any man had ever looked at her like that, as if she truly was the best thing on this entire planet to him. And maybe she really was.  
After taking off her underwear Clara sat down on the bed and looked at him expectantly. “Well, what are you waiting for? Off with them,” she said teasingly.  
John didn't have to be told twice. He quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, taking them off at once and throwing them on the floor to where her dress was already lying. His shoes, belt and trousers followed quickly. Then he sank down on his knees in front of her and placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh while Clara reached out to touch his hair.  
“What do you feel like doing tonight?” he asked her, trailing his lips up her thigh, tickling her in the process.  
Clara giggled. “Everything.”  
John nipped at the sensitive skin and Clara gasped, her juices already pooling between her thighs. No man had ever touched her quite like him.  
“Alright. Everything it is,” he agreed before he brought his mouth down between her legs and Clara sank back on the bed, moaning as he dipped his tongue in while her hands held on tightly to his hair.  
His tongue was starting a fire inside her, making her writhe against him and wish for more. When he touched her Clara seemed to lose all sense, as if the world disappeared around them.  
“How do you know?” she asked breathlessly as he sucked at her, teasing her up to the point that she thought she would burst.  
John stopped and the lack of touch was almost painful. “How do I know what?”  
“You just know,” she breathed dreamily and pulled him up to her level, staring right into his eyes, “You just know.”  
When John bent down to kiss her Clara reached between his legs and found him half hard and heavy in her palm and as always her heart skipped a little beat when she thought of how much he wanted her – because she wanted him just as much in return. He moaned into her mouth when she stroked his length, his cock hardening quickly under touch and her insides already tingled with anticipation at the thought of him filling her up.  
Finally John climbed on top of her and positioned herself at her entrance while Clara wrapped her leg around him, her excitement growing with every second. She gasped when he slid inside of her and John pressed his lips on hers, still unable to suppress the moan coming from the back of his throat. No, Clara didn't have a single doubt at this moment. John was right for her in every way.

* * *

“Shirt thief,” he complained when she stepped into the kitchen. John licked some yoghurt off his finger and put the bowl on the kitchen table just before Clara wrapped her arms around him from behind.  
“If you made some space in the closet for me I could leave some clothes here, but I've recently discovered that it's filled with books and a dubious selection of plaid trousers.”  
“I'll clean out the books today,” John promised and Clara raised an eyebrow at him even though he couldn't see it.  
“Why not the plaid trousers?”  
“I like the plaid trousers,” he argued.  
“I've never seen you wear them.”  
Suddenly he started to chuckle and turned around in her embrace, smiling at her. “Because I was afraid they'd end up on your list of things you couldn't handle.”  
“Ah well, everyone's allowed a guilty pleasure,” Clara said before she went up on her toes to give him a short peck on the lips, “What's for breakfast?”  
“The usual,” John said while both of them sat down at the table.  
Clara eyed the familiar selection of healthy food and reached for the yoghurt first when suddenly something came back to her mind. She had thought about it yesterday evening, but then, after John confessing how afraid he was to lose her, she had completely forgotten to ask about it again.  
“These women at the ball yesterday-,” Clara began cautiously.  
“Forget about them,” John said immediately, stuffing a slice of apple into his mouth, “Unless they said something mean to you, in which case I'll have a word with them.”  
“They seemed to know my name,” she went on, “And I think it's got something to do with your new book. You're not writing about me, are you?”  
John's head shot up and he gave her the look she always received when she asked about his work in progress. “Clara, you know I don't like talking about my stories before I finish them. It's bad luck. I only show them to the people at the publishing company because they would never leave me alone otherwise.”  
“That wasn't an answer to my question. Are you writing about me or not?”  
John let out a heavy sigh. “Can we make a deal? You will be the first person to read the new book when I finish it in a couple of weeks, but in the meantime you won't ask about it.”  
“But-”  
“No,” he replied harshly, “I really don't feel comfortable sharing unfinished work. End of discussion.”  
“Fine,” Clara growled and sank back into the chair, her appetite somehow lost. Something was wrong with that book and Clara would find out exactly what that was.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Are you afraid of the angst? Cause it's coming. . .

When John had retreated to the exercise bike Clara had told him she would spend the time reading a book and even drew one out of his shelf to make it look more convincing. What she had really planned to do was to find out what exactly his book was about and why he was hiding it from her.  
After Clara had made sure that he was caught up in his exercise she sneaked into his office and carefully opened the lid of his laptop. Technically, it wasn't a nice thing to do and she was fully aware of that, but she just had to know, right? If the book was truly about her, she had a right to know. If not, then she would close the laptop again and never ask about it until he showed it to her voluntarily. If it was about her, well, Clara would decide what to do then.  
Once the laptop had booted a little window popped open, asking her for a password. Damn. She had no idea. With no clue what to do next Clara tried out a variety of words. River. Melody. Missy. Doctor. Anything that came to her mind and yet the computer kept telling her to enter the right password. Clara felt at a loss.  
He wouldn't, would he? Not after just two months?  
Nevertheless Clara decided to try it and entered “Clara”, but with the same result as before – wrong password. By then she had already given up, she would never crack a complicated password containing numbers or symbols and in her frustration she gave it one last chance and typed in “Oswald” when suddenly the window disappeared and the desktop background came into view. The computer was unlocked. 

Clara knew she should stop there, she knew it was a bad idea and that maybe she should just trust John, but a part of her couldn't. She had to know. So she opened the most recent file on his computer and leaned forward and started to read.

_The doctors had warned me that my life would change after the heart transplant. They had warned me about my diet, they had warned me about my exercise plans and they had warned me about all the illnesses I might catch with my weakened immune system. What they have failed to mention, however, was the fact that I would be living with a strange man's heart, because I don't think anyone can really fathom what it means to live with this foreign object beating inside your chest as a constant reminder of how fragile and complex the human body really is. I don't think I understood it either, not at first. Until the day Clara Oswald forced her way into my life._

So he had done it. He had written down her story. Their story. Clara could hardly believe her eyes, so she scrolled down for a while and read on.

_Even though I hadn't even wanted to be there, I knew that I couldn't leave. Clara was crying, sobbing in my arms and for that moment I had my doubts that she would ever stop. I hated seeing her like that, I hated myself a little for being so bad at comforting people and above all I hated the man she was mourning. Jamie hadn't deserved her love, not if he could still make her suffer even after his death. He was gone and it was up to me now to pick up the pieces he had left behind, to love this wonderful woman in my arms that would never love me back._

Clara gasped for air as she read those lines, unable to believe a word of them. John had done all of this behind her back, written down all those personal, private details without ever asking her. Even though she could hardly bear to read any more of it she scrolled further done.

_Her moans shot through my body like lightning and the knowledge that I was the reason for her pleasure made me feel more alive than I had ever felt before. There was nothing I wanted more than to please her, to touch her, to kiss her. There was nothing I wanted more than Clara. She had ignited a spark in me that I would not in a million years be able to drown again. When she sank down on top of me, when she surrounded me with her tight wetness, I knew there was no place I would rather be than inside of her._

Clara slammed the laptop shut and immediately stepped back, but that couldn't undo the damage. Nothing could ever make her forget what she had just read.

* * *

To his surprise the living room was empty when he stepped inside and Clara was nowhere to be seen. John was about to step under the shower and just wanted to ask whether she would like to join him, but Clara wasn't there. Eventually John found her in his office, sitting at his desk.  
“Hey Clara, what's wrong?” he asked immediately, “You look a bit-”  
“Shut up,” she said, but her voice lacked her usual vigour. Something was up. He could feel it.  
“I just wanted to ask whether you-”  
“Shut up!” Clara jumped up from the chair, glaring at him with tears in her eyes. He watched her swallow. “I found your book.”  
John raised his eyebrows, his gaze wandering back and forth between Clara and his laptop. Oh, of course she would figure out his password. It was basically as if he had told her already. John took a deep breath. “What book?”  
“Don't play stupid with me! You know exactly what book!” she yelled furiously, the tears now streaming down her face, “The book you wrote about me!”  
John took a step forward. He had to calm her down so he could explain it all to her. “Clara, that's not-”  
“I said shut up!” Clara gasped for air, “You wrote down everything about me. Every fucking thing. This is my life, John! These are my most private and personal thoughts and you wrote them down just to make money. And you didn't even stop there, no, you wrote down everything between us. It's downright pornographic!”  
“Clara-”  
“No!” she said determinedly, looking straight at him even though she was crying, “You took my life, you took my pain and my love for you and you turned it into a book just to have something to write about. You used me in the worst possible way.”  
“I can explain,” John almost whispered. She was upset and he needed to make her listen to him, just for a minute.  
“I don't want an explanation. Nothing could ever justify this,” Clara said, nodding towards the laptop, “You know what? No wonder you needed that transplant. I doubt you had a heart to begin with.”

John was so baffled, so struck by her last statement that he couldn't even move to stop her when she rushed past him and he only woke from his trance when the front door closed behind Clara.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooooo much for the lovely and slightly freaked out comments :D

John didn't know what to do. Go after her? No, Clara wouldn't listen to him, not like this. Call her? As if she would pick up. He only knew that he couldn't lose her, not over something like this. Clara had it all wrong, she misunderstood, and John was determined to show her the truth, so he pulled up the chair and sat down at his laptop. If Clara didn't listen, all that was left was to show her the truth.

So John sat down and started writing. He wrote it all down from the day they met up until the point he had felt like the happiest man on earth – last night. He would prove it to her and he would write and he would write it well. Clara would see, surely she would.

When the evening came around and John was starting to feel hungry, he rose from his office chair and walked into the kitchen, preparing a quick meal before he went back to his computer. His eyes hurt and his back was in dire need of rest, but he wasn't finished yet. He wouldn't stop before every word was in the right place. John would finish it, not matter how long it took.

* * *

Clara had hardly slept at all last night and her restlessness has driven her out of bed as early as seven on a Sunday morning, just so she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts. She wished that there was someone she could call, but her grandmother had gone away over the weekend and there was no reception wherever she was right now. And she couldn't bother Amy either, not when she was so busy with the move this weekend. Besides, Clara knew what they would say. They would tell her to forget about it, but how could she ever forget about a betrayal like this? He had used her as subject for his book, he had used her grief and her feelings for him without showing even the smallest sign of remorse. Clara could never forget that. 

What she truly needed was a distraction, so Clara decided to take a shower and prepare a breakfast that she wouldn't eat. She wasn't hungry, she just needed something to do. However when she was just about to pull the teabag out of her mug Clara heard the door bell ring.  
With a heavy sigh she walked towards the door with everything intention to send away whoever was in front of it, but she was greeted by a sight she hadn't expected.  
John was standing in front of her doorstep, unshaven, his hair ruffled, shirt buttoned up the wrong way and he looked as if he had gotten even less sleep than Clara herself.  
“What do you want?” she demanded angrily.  
John held a stack of paper in her direction. “I want you to read this,” he said.  
Clara exhaled sharply and leaned against the door frame. “No, thanks, I think I've read enough of that filth.”  
“What you read was my diary,” John told her plainly, staring straight at her and for a short moment Clara even believed him. He seemed quite sincere. But it wasn't the truth and she knew it.  
“Those women at the publishing company knew my name. So they read it, too. So it can't be your diary,” she argued, “Is there anything else before I slam this door in your face?”  
“Please,” John whispered, holding the stack up a little higher, “I've started a new novel, which is about the last 75 pages of this stack, and I've named the protagonist after you. I didn't want you to see it before it was finished. I would've asked you whether you were okay with the name before publishing it and if not we can still change it. Clara, please, believe me, what you found yesterday was my diary. It was never meant to be published.”  
“It looked like a novel to me,” Clara raised her voice at him, “It had everything a novel should have. How could that be your diary?!”  
John lowered the papers in his hands and closed his eyes, inhaling sharply before he spoke. He seemed almost desperate. “I am a writer, Clara, writing is a what I do. When I met you and I was confused. I didn't know what to do with these feelings, so I wrote them down to clear my head. This is all of it,” he nodded towards the papers in his hands, “This is all you need to know about me, everything I've done and everything I've thought since I met you. This stack of paper _is me_. Please, read it.”  
He dropped the stack in her hands before Clara even had a chance to decline. Two options: throw it at him or keep it?  
“If you don't call, I'll know that you no longer want anything to do with me. Not everything in there is particularly nice, but this is who I am,” he said with a sigh and turned around to leave.  
“John-” Clara called after him, but when he looked at her she suddenly felt lost for words. She had no idea what to say to him. When she failed to speak he simply nodded and walked back downstairs.

Armed with only her cup of tea Clara sank down on the sofa, the stack of paper heavy on her thighs. If she read it, she he was telling the truth. . .  
Clara went through the stack first and eventually found the part where his novel started. It didn't have a title yet, but there was her name as the protagonist and before Clara knew it she had dived deep into the story of a young, feisty and very beautiful journalist who accidentally found herself in the middle of a puzzle surrounding a man's murder. When Clara had turned the last page and there was nothing left to read, she cursed John a little for having brought her his unfinished work that conveniently stopped at the most thrilling plot twist. Damn him!

Now her eyes fell on the other half of the stack that was his diary. Clara had caught glimpses of it on his laptop and suddenly she felt overcome by guilt for having read it at all. She shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have snooped around his private files just to satisfy her own curiosity. She had had no right to do that, despite her suspicion that he was writing a novel about her. Clara hadn't trusted John and now he was placing the ultimate trust in her by giving her his diary to read.  
Clara swallowed and pulled out the very last page to read it.

_I didn't want to sleep, even though the exhaustion had long caught up with me. Instead I wanted to hold on to this perfect moment just a little longer, hold on to Clara who was sleeping in my arms, probably dreaming about the beautiful future we could have together. It was then that I realized I wanted it all, it was then that I could answer all of her questions. I would love her better than any man ever could, I would make her happy, not because she deserved it, but because that was the only thing I have ever truly wanted in life. Clara had asked me about children earlier that day, about settling down, and now I knew the answer to it. Of course. Why shouldn't there be children in our future some day? The thought scared me senseless, but hopefully I would still have some time to learn. Somehow it felt as if there was nothing I couldn't do as long as Clara was by my side._

_In a way Clara saved me without ever knowing that she had. I understand now why this new heart has always felt strange to me, why there was a hole that could never be filled, no matter how hard I tried to get my old life back. The heart beating inside my chest has never belonged to me, not for a single moment. This heart has always belonged to Clara Oswald. I owe my life to her and it will never be complete again without her._

Clara wiped a tear from her face and cleared her throat as she placed the page aside, knowing that she didn't even need to read the rest of it. She didn't need to know everything about it, good or bad. All she ever needed to know was on that last page.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for the sweet comments! Now, are you braced for the last 2 chapters?

John had just sat down on the sofa when the phone rang in his pocket and he hurried to pull it out, just to be disappointed when he saw Missy's name on his display instead of Clara's. Of course it wouldn't be Clara. She would never call him, not after she had read his diary. He had been too honest, he had cursed her late boyfriend too many times in his thoughts. Even though John thought that he had changed, he really hadn't. He was still the same arsehole that he had been before they had put this foreign heart inside of him, before he had met Clara.  
When the ringing of the phone didn't cease John decided to pick up. “What?” he barked into the phone.  
“Wow, what a lovely greeting,” Missy said, “And I just wanted to ask how you're doing.”  
“No, you didn't,” John sighed, “You wanted to know whether I'll stick to my deadline on Wednesday.”  
“Yeah, and that, too,” she admitted, “I didn't get a chance to ask at the ball because you seemed fairly busy with your new girlfriend. She's not keeping you from writing, is she?”  
John inhaled sharply. The pure mention of Clara hurt and there was nothing he could do to stop it. A part of him feared that the pain would get even worse. “Listen, Missy, I don't think I can do two new chapters until Wednesday. I'm not feeling so well at the moment.”  
“Then go to the hospital. You know what they said,” she told him.  
“It's not the heart,” he said, even though, technically, it was. But somehow John doubted that they had a cure for a broken heart that wasn't even his own.  
“John,” he heard Missy say on the other end of the line and for a moment he was terrified of what would come next. She hardly ever used his proper name, always speaking to him with his pseudonym, “Take all the time you need.”  
“What?” he sat up, unable to believe he had heard her right.  
“Yeah, take your time. The novel you're writing seems great, don't rush it. To be honest, I'm only pushing you because you have a habit of ending chapters on a cliffhanger.”  
“That's. . . uhm. . . thanks,” John uttered.  
“Call me when you're ready,” Missy said before she hung up and the phone went dead. 

John threw the phone aside and leaned forward, reaching for the glass and the bottle of whiskey he had bought on his way home from Clara's place. He knew it would make him terribly ill, but right now it seemed like a fair price to pay for a little peace of mind. But before he took a sip he decided to make one more phone call.  
“Hello John, what's up?” Jenny's friendly voice answered the phone and somehow it brought a smile to his face. But it also brought a few tears to his eyes. He was hurting and all he really wanted, besides Clara, was to be around family. He quickly cleared his throat before he spoke.  
“How are you? Everything alright with you three?” he asked her, sniffing as he leaned back on the sofa.  
“Yeah, we two and a half are doing great. He or she is making me sick every morning, but I suppose that's part of the process,” she explained.  
“Yeah, I've heard that might happen,” he said, smiling a little, “Listen, I thought about leaving London for a few days, stay with family for a bit. Would I be very much in the way?”  
“Not at all,” Jenny said immediately, “You're welcome to visit any time. In fact, we could use a tall person to paint the ceiling of the nursery. Are you bringing Clara as well?”  
Again her name felt like a knife piercing his heart and John sighed heavily, swallowing his tears. “No, I'm not bringing her.”  
“Did something happen?”  
He hesitated for a moment before he exhaled sharply. “We're not together anymore. That's why I need to leave. I. . . everything just reminds me of her here.”  
“Why? What happened?”  
Before John could even think of an answer the door bell rang, tearing him out of his thoughts.  
“I've got to go,” John said, rising to his feet, “There's someone at the door.”

He hung up and wiped the tears from his face as he made his way towards the door, only to find the one person he had least expected standing right in front of it. And she carried the big pile of papers on her arm.  
“I'm sorry for what I said,” Clara apologized and she sounded nervous, “I'm sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I went through your personal files and I'm sorry that I called you heartless.”  
John had no idea what to say, he had never expected to see Clara again after she had stormed out of his house like that yesterday and after the way she had reacted to him this morning. So he did the only thing he could think of, he held the door open for her and Clara stepped inside.  
“What's the whiskey doing there?” Clara asked instantly and pointed at the bottle on his table. John didn't fail to hear the worry in her voice, “You know you get sick when you drink.”  
He shrugged. “For a moment I thought it would be worth it.”  
“It's not,” she determined and screwed the bottle cap back on after she had set the pile of paper down on his table.  
“So. . . uhm,” John was reluctant, shuffling his feet, “Have you read it?”  
Clara turned back around to look at him. “I've read the novel,” she told him, “And I'm slightly cross with you for leaving off where you did. I need to know what happens next. Is her boyfriend really the dead guy's son?”  
John decided to ignore her question for a moment. He needed to know. “Yeah, but the rest? Have you read that?”  
Slowly Clara shook her head. “Well, I've read the last page,” she said sheepishly, “I feel terrible. I shouldn't have read it on your laptop behind your back, I should have just trusted you.”  
“Well, in a way you were right. I used your name for my new book, so, technically, it is about you,” John admitted, “I can change it if you don't want that.”  
“No, that's alright.”

John took a deep breath, afraid to take his eyes off her even for a moment. She was here now, but she hadn't actually said anything at all.  
“I've read the last page of your diary,” Clara repeated after a moment and took a small step towards him, but nothing more.  
“And?” John asked carefully, trying not to let his insecurity show too much. He wanted Clara back, more than anything, but he was so afraid that she might say no that he couldn't find it in his heart to actually ask.  
“I feel the same way,” she admitted and closed the distance between them, going up on tiptoes before her lips landed on his own.  
John had no choice but to close his arms around her and pull her closer. He never wanted to let her go ever again and the relief he felt right now lifted a ton off his mind.  
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled when she broke the kiss, staring right at him, “I promise, from now on I will trust you and never go behind your back again.”  
“Uhm,” John swallowed, “Apology accepted?”  
“You better,” Clara smiled at him, granting him a shy laugh, “You're not complete without me, remember?”  
He laughed in reply. “If I understand correctly, neither are you.”  
Clara giggled before he bent down to kiss her again and this time he knew it – he would never kiss another woman in his life but Clara.  
When he came up for air, Clara reached for his hand and pulled him in the direction of the sofa. Together they sank down in the cushions.  
“Hey, the school is on half term break right now, isn't it?” he suddenly asked.  
“Yeah,” Clara replied, turning her head in his direction, “Why?”  
He smiled at her. “Wanna spend it on the Isle of Wight?”  
“Sure,” she beamed at him, “If you come to Amy's and Rory's housewarming party with me.”  
With a soft groan John let his head sink. “I don't have a choice now, do I?”  
“None at all,” Clara said and leaned her head against his shoulder and somehow John didn't even mind so much that she would make him attend the party. Clara was part of his life now and that included her friends.


	40. Epilogue

**Five Years Later**

 

Clara opened the boot of the car to fetch their suitcases when suddenly she heard a shrill voice calling their names across the lawn.  
“Uncle John!” Auntie Clara!”  
The little boy instantly threw his arms around Clara, hugging her tightly and attempting to get her to pick him up, which she would have done had John not instantly snatched him away from her.  
“Sorry pal,” he said, “Auntie Clara can't carry you today. She threw her back out.”  
“I think I can decide that for myself,” she growled at him, but her eyes lit up at the sight of Henry's smile. The boy would turn five in just a few months. How time had flown by.  
“What are you up to, mh?” John asked him and Henry pointed towards a spot on the lawn.  
“I'm building a castle! Will you help me?”  
“Later, alright? I just want to say hello to your mummies first,” John explained while Clara reached for her suitcase, “Hey, hey, hey, what do you think you're doing?”  
Clara turned to look at him. “Fetching our luggage,” she said matter-of-factly.  
“I'll do that,” he put Henry down and instantly reached for both their suitcases, “Think about _your back_.”  
“It's fine, I can handle it,” she argued angrily, trying in vain to grab at least one suitcase back from him, “I am not made out of glass!”  
“What are you two arguing about?” Vastra appeared in the doorway when they approached the house, a smirk on her face when she saw them bickering.  
“Nothing,” Clara growled, “Just John being an overly protective pain in the arse.”  
“Save that for later and come inside. Jenny just finished making the tea,” she told them and with a waving gesture she asked them inside the house.

Clara breathed in deeply when she stepped into the kitchen, the smell of tea and fresh biscuits hanging in the air and only now she realized how hungry she was. They would have a wonderful two weeks here, just spending time with the rest of the family and using the warm summer weather to go for a swim. And not to mention Jenny's amazing cooking.  
“So, how are you two?” Jenny asked when she sat down at the kitchen table as well.  
“Mummy, can I have a biscuit?” Henry asked and Jenny shoved the plate in his direction with a smile.  
“Can I have one, too?” Clara giggled and reached for the first she could get her hands on, stuffing it right into her mouth. One day she would get Jenny to give her the recipe. One day.  
“We've never been better,” John answered for the two of them and Clara felt him reach for her hand under the table.  
“Mh-mh,” she nodded, swallowing, “Agreed. How about you?”  
“Well, I am back to work,” Vastra explained, “And Jenny is taking care of Henry during the day.”  
“If you need a day off, we'll be here the next two weeks,” Clara said towards Jenny, who nodded in appreciation, “We'll be happy to watch him.”  
“Yeah,” John agreed, “We could take him to the zoo and to the beach and I really want to see if that castle can withstand an enemy attack.”  
Vastra eyed them curiously. “You seem eager to steal our son away from us. Any particular reason?”  
John gave a shrug and stared at his empty plate. “No, just wanna spend time with my nephew, that's all.”  
“John,” Clara said gently, squeezing his hand in her own, “We can tell them. They'll know anyway as soon they see me in a bikini.”  
“Oh?” Jenny's face turned into a broad smile as she leaned forward, “And what will we see when we look at you in a bikini?”  
John tried to hide it, Clara could tell that he did, but he just couldn't help smiling whenever the topic came up. His initial hesitation had faded completely.  
“We're going to have a baby,” she announced happily and before she knew it Jenny had thrown her arms around her in a tight hug and even Vastra had joined in before they moved on to John, who, under heavy protest, eventually hugged them in return.

* * *

John lifted the covers when Clara stepped back inside the guest bedroom and crawled into bed next to him before he wrapped his arms back around her.  
“I hate these constant bathroom breaks, it's like the little one already has a bladder of its own,” she complained as she sank back into his arms.  
John couldn't help it. He leaned forward and placed a long, soft kiss on the back of her head while his arms folded around the curve of her belly that had started to show about a month ago and he loved every bit of it already. He loved her and he already loved the child they would have, even though it wasn't even born yet.  
“Are you happy?” he asked carefully.  
Clara hummed in reply. “Very.”  
“How happy?” he chuckled when he pressed himself a little more tightly against the shape of her arse, rubbing against her through their layers of clothing.  
She giggled in reply. “Not as happy as you apparently,” she replied and turned around in his embrace before John locked their lips in a long, soft kiss.  
“Just thought we could use the holiday mood,” he said, but Clara already reached between his legs, wrapping her warm hand around his member. His heart skipped at beat at her touch. It still did that, even five years later, and John hoped that this feeling would never go away.  
“Very much in favour of using the holiday mood,” she agreed and John already leaned forward to kiss her again when suddenly there was a knock on the door.  
“Yeah?” Clara asked, turning around to look at whoever was outside.  
A moment later Henry stepped into the room, armed with his teddy bear and dressed in his fire brigade pyjamas. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”  
John was about to protest when, to his dismay, he heard Clara agree. “Sure,” she said, “Come on in.”  
He uttered a soft growl when the boy climbed into bed with them, but gave up trying to protest. He would do almost anything for this child and both Henry and Clara knew it.  
Clara giggled next to him. “We can get into the holiday mood tomorrow after our trip to the zoo,” she said, the smile still audible in her voice, “Just think of this as practice, too.”  
With a playful grunt John sank back into the pillows, knowing that Clara was right. And he loved her for that.  
“Good night,” he muttered.  
“Good night,” Clara told him.  
There was no sound coming from Henry between them. The boy had already fallen asleep and, holding Clara's hand, John soon drifted off as well, dreaming about the wonderful adventure that lay ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. . . time to take a deep breath and lean back.
> 
> Thank you soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much for the amazing feedback, the comments, the personal messages and even just reading or clicking the kudos button on this story. Really, thank you! I've had a blast writing this story. I know I say that after each one, but this time I really, really mean it. It was sooo much fun and I loved every bit of it, so it makes me especially happy that you've enjoyed it so much. There are only few fics that I feel truly good about but this is definitely one of them and your support and feedback throughout the process was simply amazing! Thank you guys! I hope I can deliver an ending that you'll like.
> 
> As of tomorrow I will start posting my new university AU called "Third Time's A Charm", which I hope you will enjoy as well :)


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